the wind lashes through the lush unkempt hair
of the conductor of the rickety bus
sending shock waves of foul odor
across noses of passengers packed to the brim
noses curl in silent protest
beside the road in the scotch morning heat
are two pupils
a little girl and her brother
holding hands
desperate to get through the traffic to school
three loud bangs on the door of the German delivery van converted into a passenger bus
was the signal to stop
“hop in!“ he instructed
their destination wasn’t far
he let them alight without taking money
from his long sigh and look he gave them
as they hurried into the school yard,
he must have remembered his childhood
and nursery rhymes of twinkling stars
and his high hopes back them
if only he, and these little children, could see the future
Diary of a Wanderer 
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