The bins come marching in.

Large ones in twos.

One red, one yellow, and the cadet is green.

They arrive en masse,

Shoulder-to-shoulder down the street.

Compulsory billeting.

Vibrant, plastic progress,

Handbook and calendar,

Colour coded to match their helmets.

All week to organise, marshal.

They wrest scraps from my compost,

To build communal compost.

Plastics 1, 2 and 5 into the yellow bin.

Uncategorised into the red.

A frown, with an order to minimise.

Back kerbside on Fridays, in formation.

Thirty centimetres apart, the handbook shouts.

Is the street long enough? Silence!

The bins come marching in.

Jenny Willoughby, Otumoetai.