There's something about recycling

That provides a rich reward;

Washing out those bottles and tins

And slicing up cardboard.

Peeling off the plastic bag

From its council-issue provision

And filling it with content

That demands domestic precision.

Sometimes one - or two tied  together

Get carried down to the street

To wait like weekly offerings

To the detritus deity they'll meet -.

Until its hand-servants attend and lift

These gifts they do not scorn

And carry all away with them

To the place where they're reborn.

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