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.
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