Trash of Charon

It’s quite a sight To be rescued by a garbage truck Before anyone or anything else with luck Rises So early this morning After the big snow Schools closed business delayed Road uncut by any car Birds sleeping in The synapse of tree limbs white feathered with fins Reaching out for one another in an apologetic wind But those guys One impossibly young the other impossibly old Defiant Or miserable Is there a difference, these cosmic travelers? Not making much money But here they are Unmoved by all our mythical possibilities Holding to a relentless backend schedule Swinging down up and through the drifts They lift Our buried bin to the automatic contraption Right on time no matter what Emptying again Another week’s waste from all our lives.