Twice a week in break of dawn
While the stars are outstanding
I screw the plastic lids on tight
Moles and chipmunks might get in

Summer in my shirtsleeves smart
A chorus of derisive birds
Winter with my overcoat
Frost and mist, dismissive words

The plastic, glass and house discards
Out by six and standing proud
Proclaiming waste and affluence
Of which we do not speak aloud

Who has the skills to sort this stuff
The piles we evacuate
Who can recycle or degrade
The trash we have thrown out too late

Nothing to rescue or be claimed
Once items pass their sell-by date.

Frank Bana

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/taking-out-the-trash/