Soup Therapy: a Poem and a Recipe

Actual photo of the first bowl I wolfed down right after cooking this wonderful recipe. The second bowl was enjoyed at a much slower, more civilized, pace. Yum!

Soup Therapy

Feeling a mental drain

from a world gone insane,

from all the:

shooting after shooting,

political feuding;

tornado destruction,

no power conduction;

ice and snow storming,

damn global warming.

So down with the blues,

I turned off the news

and made soup.

Turning full attention

from normal convention,

I began to:

slice and sauté

garlic ‘n onions my way,

peel and cut spuds,

downing cold suds*;

bring it all to a boil,

getting into the toil;

make fresh egg noodles,

by hit’n miss doodles;

happy ‘n high as a kite*,

I stirred with delight,

making soup.

Cooking comfort food

helps calm this dude.

I must say:

it narrows the focus

of one’s hocus pocus;

shuts out world reality,

opens now in totality;

remembering my mother,

a woman like no other;

who lifted my weary soul

by simply serving a bowl.

Yes, I’ll sleep well tonight,

I'm no longer uptight,

thanks to soup!

* I have been sober since 2021, though openly confess to still being a soupaholic.

My Artist Sister Liz's Chicken Tortellini Soup Recipe

(Exactly as she penned and texted it to me.)

Wonderfully scrumptious and delightful! But, like, that's just my opinion, man.

Enjoy!

Thank you Liz!