To the Compost Bin
Was ever there a more beautiful thing Than the sight of a steaming compost bin? To look’s not enough, you must behold This putrefying, festering mound of mold. Cut grass and leaves, squashed tomatoes, melons Old tea bags, stale bread, squeezed-out lemons, Bananas turned black, egg shells galore, All coated in powdery-blue fungal spore. All those things you don’t want, just put them here They'll become nutritious soil in a year Thanks to worms and ants, beetles and lice. It is a creepy-crawly paradise. With nothing but their own self-interest in mind. They tirelessly process the peel and the rind. It’s like Adam Smith’s Invisible Han: Nothing is wasted, nor centrally planned. The bin's an example, it’s plain to see, Of a functioning, free-market economy.
Dominic Frisby, October 2017