As I boil water I flash back in time to the most primitive of days when our forefathers did just the same for a soothing drink. They gather the herbs from the earth and put them into the water that whispers with steam.
The herbs bleed. The water steeps into aroma, flavor, and genuine color. Two hands preserving sanctity. I sip slowly as to not provoke the tempered tea and in return it warms my soul.
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