Rickshaw Boy

The man I pulled tonight carried a load of books. When I felt him watching me uphill, I grimaced. He gave me lunar cakes the size of two camel humps. When I answered him, I smiled to his face. He wore the moonlight in his specs. Pant seams clean as the embroidery work of his book covers. One cannot grow rich without a bit of cleverness. Should I have shown him the secret of my deft touch? The Circling Moon, the Graceful Swan? How East Wind beats West Wind if other two winds say so? Snow falls on cedars.