Miso Soup in Kibuye

Mixed signals
Wires crossed
I am waiting at St. Jean for you.
You are waiting by the boats for me, an hour passes before we realize.

The sun is high now. The day is warming and I am drinking hot miso soup, because it’s free (I brought it with me) and because it warms my soul:
white miso, green onions, black mug, silver spoon.

Lush, deep green hillsides across a calm lake
Yellow and white plastic chairs
Metal, red rooftops
Birds that I hear, but can’t see
Leaves rustling in the breeze, waiting to uncross the wires.

Are we still leaving today?
Shall we go tomorrow instead?

I hear a chime, but it is not you.
Still waiting for a response.

Half of the miso is gone.
The seaweed in it matching the green of the forest in the
distance.

We will meet tomorrow.
I will take the time to make things more clear.

Today, I return to my book.
It has left me overwhelmed, yet optimistic.