The first comes before dusk
as children settle in for sleep
and dishwashers cycles engage

Clink, clink, clink –
bottles rattling –
it’s garbage night.

Black bandana covering hair,
he sports a neatly trimmed beard
and red fleece jacket – appearance

not out-of-place in the upscale
neighbourhood, only his wheels –
blue cart, brimming with bags

one dog perched on the basket,
another settled below – he collects
returnables from blue bins – recycling.

Chatters as he goes, offers a “do you mind?”
to homeowners puttering on front lawns,
nods to passersby, dogs silently watching.

Then later, as windows darken behind
drawn curtains, and the noise of traffic
fades to a minimum, comes another

Clink, clink, clink –
bottle rattling –
it’s garbage night.

Posted by

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

4 thoughts on “Recycling

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