The piles take root,
Along the edge of driveways,
Nestled among the forsythia blossoms,
Resting patiently, expectantly,
Assured there will be "pickers"
Who will scoop up chairs, tables, desks,
High chairs, cribs, play yards, bikes,
Old doors, windows, washers,
Cabinets, sinks, toilets,
Bookcases, bureaus, lawn chairs.
Broken beyond use and destined
For a dump somewhere.
Yet most of the pile,
Cast out in a rash of spring cleaning,
Could still be used.
Most was replaced by a society
That values new, clean, bright and shiny.
That disparages old, ratty, worn and broken.
Those piles seem huge on Monday morning,
Carefully assembled on the weekend,
Cleared by "pickers" who know the ropes,
Arriving on Monday with
Trucks, trailers, minivans,
With a keen eye they discern
The potential of each piece of trash
Knowing what might become treasure.
It's a socio-economic-recycling-ecosystem!
PS: These are not my local photos of trash as I cannot drive and shoot!