Stone Soup

by Sarah Emtage

We boast at Windstone about when Malcolm Guite -- upon being asked (at the Trinity Forum) to name a couple of his favourite living poets -- noted our very own Sarah Emtage. We love when our friends come to love our friends. And if you know neither Sarah nor Malcolm, please allow us to introduce you to their wondrous craftings (follow the hyperlinks above). Indeed, here is a delightful interview with them together.

Sarah wrote the following poem for Windstone Farm Community, and first performed it at a fundraising event in Toronto. We love its expression of who we all are together, as creations of the Creator seeking to better participate with that Living Word.

Stone Soup

by Sarah Emtage

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

The wind hovers over the waters
and so does a skipping stone
till it slows and sinks, deep in the drink,
and the seed of the story is sown.

The table is stretched apart at the seams
and lengthened with long wooden boards.
The house is humming with voices
And thrumming with stories like swords.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

Gradually ingredients
are mingled in the simmering
as sunlight through the apple trees
casts shadows that are shimmering.

The sourdough has risen.
It is fresh and filled with caves
Crust to crumbs as it breaks for us
and the butter melts in waves.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

We warm our hands on handmade mugs
as cat claws catch at threads.
We weave our words within the word
who resurrects the dead.

The wood and the wind are an instrument
that summons us out to the land.
We follow the flow of the reborn stream
and the dream that revived it by hand.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

The cauldron of story is stirring
and everyone adds what they can
to the wind, stone, water, and silence
and the word where it all began.

March 2026

Stone Soup

Stone Soup

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

The wind hovers over the waters
and so does a skipping stone
till it slows and sinks, deep in the drink,
and the seed of the story is sown.

The table is stretched apart at the seams
and lengthened with long wooden boards.
The house is humming with voices
And thrumming with stories like swords.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

Gradually ingredients
are mingled in the simmering
as sunlight through the apple trees
casts shadows that are shimmering.

The sourdough has risen.
It is fresh and filled with caves
Crust to crumbs as it breaks for us
and the butter melts in waves.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

We warm our hands on handmade mugs
as cat claws catch at threads.
We weave our words within the word
who resurrects the dead.

The wood and the wind are an instrument
that summons us out to the land.
We follow the flow of the reborn stream
and the dream that revived it by hand.

We are slowly spiralling soupward
as the soup is being stirred,
and it all began with silence
and it all began with the word.

The cauldron of story is stirring
and everyone adds what they can
to the wind, stone, water, and silence
and the word where it all began.

March 2026

March 2026