Outside the day is cold and wet.
The trees and flowers droop.
Mom says the weather’s perfect
for making veggie soup.
We chop the bright orange carrots.
We core the red tomatoes.
We trim the ends off all the beans
and dice the sweet potatoes.
We put it all in a big black pot,
along with some water and rice.
We stir and wait and watch and taste,
adding a dash of spice.
Outside, everything is cold and wet,
huddled against the storm.
Inside, we’re eating veggie soup,
perfectly cozy and warm.
Yesterday was the first nasty day we’ve had this fall. Just looking out the window chilled my bones. Thus it was also the first perfect day to make soup. Of course I couldn’t start cooking the soup, until I wrote a poem about it. (That should give you some sense of my priorities.) I confess I don’t really enjoy cooking. I can’t seem to get in touch with the feeling that cooking is a form of caretaking. To me it just feels like a chore. But since I like eating soup, I have to cook it.
My favorite soup is Gypsy Soup from the Moosewood Cookbook. As you can see the recipe is well loved. You can also see I took some poetic license with my poem, which is, of course, to be expected.
For more Poetry Friday, visit Laura Purdie Salas at Writing the World for Kids.