The shock of the new

An exploded moment of the consternation and confusion turned to recognition and excitement on seeing my first solar farm

We turn a corner. Whoa. Slow down. Stop. Jaws drop. What is this crop?
In ranks across a five acre field
An immaculately tidy, strangely symmetrical yield

the 1st half-second:
the nimby in me stirs, the nimby brain whirrs
It says: Dark wafers! On guard!
It sees: Darth Vader’s business card
the unprepared brain, no clues or hints,
sees alien invasion, the first wave of frighteningly disciplined after dinner mints
sees an angle-poise posse of glossy super-intelligent plank life

the 2nd half-second:
the nimby brain begins to calm
sees they come in peace & mean no harm,
instead sees a huge page of redacted sudoku
sees supplicant place mats, members of the most worshipful order of coasters
an open air warehouse of flat pack goth garden furniture

the 1st half of the 2nd second:
a light begins to dawn
my skin begins to tingle
as I apprehend their angle
is the optimum to catch the sun
and then I see
synchronised sunbathers
expectant rectangles
oblongs of elegance
in their very element
siphoning off the sunshine
creaming off the crop of sunbeams

the 2nd half of the 2nd second:
I say Hurray for the array
who with silent simplicity
turn light to electricity
and my dismay into delight

they’re kin to my panels, my own PV
that wash my clothes that boil my cups of tea

and then I reach epiphany and see:
a choir of angels in a cathedral of stained dark windows, deep as ink
sacred insatiables whose job it is to drink
in radiance
windows to a future not only doable
but so much more renewable than the namby pamby Nimby in me – or anyone – cares to think.

Matt Harvey, writer, poet, enemy of all that's difficult and upsetting!