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