I thought some might enjoy this perhaps off topic
poem in honor of soup.
for aeons it's uplifted human hearts
when faith and hope were dim and outlook drear
it's nourished weakened flesh from fever's starts
and warmed within when numbing cold was near
to cultures flung from Peking to Peru
it's central to their self identity
though wrought is slightly different ways it's true
the common threads are there for all to see
it's kept the famine wolf from many doors
when little had to stretch to feed the mass
its essence wafts to please our very cores
and girds us for the trials yet to pass
in honor of it's gift I kneel and stoop
to steaming bowls of soothing chicken soup
Thanks, Mike. Cute and true.
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