TRASH AND TREASURE
My wife’s a hunter-gather it seems,
And stuff left by the curb-side for the trash
That oughtn’t be crunched up to smithereens
And then incinerated to mere ash
It is her mission to save from such fate,
To salvage and recycle what’s still good,
Returning home, car laden, and elate
With all these treasures from the neighborhood.
The only part that needs to be refined
Is what to do with stuff we do not want
And finding someone else happily inclined
These places of such cast-off stuff to haunt,
For it’s too terrible to contemplate
A trash compactor as its destined fate.