A poem about art in the everyday: 
Soup •
.
the house falls quiet on a rare
afternoon
all three girls spinning in their
spheres
and me alone
with my dog,
who entwines herself around my feet
as i light a candle and chop
vegetables
.
carrot coins and kale chunks,
onions and shallots --
these ordinary elements that are
evening's worship
in this home, a sanctuary,
this kitchen, a place of
communion
.
i read today that the world
needs its artists more
than ever
and i feel again the fire
shut up in bones,
a fire that wants to make
soup a thing of beauty,
that wants to string lines
like beads,
that wants to remind of hope
in words and images and
surrender and gathering around the table
.
{Poem in its entirety on my website. Link in profile.}
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