“PEASEBLOSSOMA gloaming peace this evening with it bringsIn the countryside where we lay our sceneToad-ballad accompan'd, crickets sing,and cupcake crumbs make fairy hands unclean.An indignant Moth squeaked, "There were cupcakes?!”

“Peace, Love, and Cupcakes”

“If only life were like cupcakes; easy to make and never-ending.”

“I had, I'll admit, effected a certain style - a method, if you will - of cupcake eating. To begin, you remove the cupcake liner carefully so as not to unnecessarily crumble the cake, and set it aside. You then turn the cupcake slowly in your hand, taking bites along the line where cake meets icing, your mouth filling with a perfect combination of both components. Once you've come full circle, you gently twist off the bottom half inch of cake, a move that takes considerable finesse and leaves a delicate sliver of cake - the ideal size for lying flat on your tongue and allowing it to slowly dissolve, building anticipation for that final bite. To finish, you are left with the center cylinder of cake and icing, the cupcake's very heart, sometimes filled with a surprising burst of custard or jam or mousse, sometimes not, but always, always, the most moist, flavorful bite of the entire cupcake. Take a breath before diving into that final, perfect bite; it is to be savored for as long as possible. Finally, of course, you scavenge the crumbs from the cupcake liner you set aside during step one, then ball the liner into your fist and overhand it into the nearest receptacle. Make the shot? You get another cupcake.”

“I had to make room for the cupcakes”

“And I will find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,/ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings...”