A Lonely Traveller

My Ladybird Barber

A summer wind
blew me into a small barber’s booth
under a shady big tree on a scenic hillside.

The lady barber is young and coy;
when she smiles,
rosy clouds color all over her cheeks.

When trimming off my three thousand hairs of worries,
she kept whispering to me
like a shy ladybird.
When she said, “You have a good-looking face!”
This was the only thing I could recall clearly.
I promised her I’d grace her booth again with an autumn breeze.

When I was walking on cloud nine home, I heard someone thinking out loud:

Praise the Lord!

You’ve been so kind to a mineral!