The guard

The guard
grunted as we climbed aboard
the train heading to Sofia
There were fields of sunflowers
and dusty bulrushes
along the river bank
a stork, brilliant white
against the azure sky
like a shirt hanging out to dry
perches on a rock
waiting for a fish
we passed rusty ships scrapyards piled high
with cars
Dacias, Skodas, pick up trucks
rotting in the metal graveyard
behind the chimneys
every now and then the train stopped
doors slammed and creaked
people got on and off
scuttling home
hermit crabs carrying Lidl bags
and Gucci purses
little whitewashed houses
with terracotta roofs
pergolas draped with vines
hot lazy cats
lying in the shade of the fig trees