Soup communion

Soup is the procrastinator's meal:
It is always better the next day,
When the flavors meld
And what you wished for yesterday
Becomes a reality tomorrow.
Differences, both subtle and profound, disappear
And the individual components become one in the soupbowl,
Floating in the stock together
To become a single remarkable thing:
Savory communion in a bowl,
Or a mug or cup,
The cook's choice.

Perhaps we could attempt true communion
Over mugs of steaming soup
Rather than pieces of stale bread
And a thimble full of grocery store grape juice.

We might catch the lost sinner
With a last spoonful
From the bottom of the bowl.