CC Image Courtesy of MPCA Photos

            The solar panel is the gladdest morning person and the ultimate go-getter; its deepest instinct is to soak up the world on sight. It squirrels away each glint and gleam, eager in the face of eternal radiation. En masse or sometimes just in small patches, it shouts down fortunes from the horizon, hungry, sympathetic, fulfilling the millions-mile pilgrimage of every sizzling ray. Vermillion sunrises set its highest purposes aglow the moment it wakes up, and the most spectacular of ombrès celebrate the end of its workday. Suburbia gives it a throne on its roofs, and in turn it is their wizard, taming celestial fire into the lifeblood hum of a home.

            The wind turbine claims the plains as its kingdom and the sky as its liege. It watches new flowers bloom into purple mountain majesty and chats with baby birds just learning to wing their way home. Its touch turns aimless breezes into currents of change, it tastes sea salt and summer and the perfume of fresh rain. Visiting children know it as the sleek pioneer of a brand new kind of farm. In the noon light of the coast, lined straight and tall in infinite rows of alien white fins, it forms an army worthy of any prime-time panoramic shot.

            The water turbine howls like a warrior and glides like a dancer, a simple design hanging tough beneath the murkiest of surfaces. Unafraid in its ubiquity, it dares to take an ocean so deep and dark its secrets may never be fully uncovered by the human race and gouge out its own rhythm. It sweeps the stalwart current off its feet and charms the fury of the turbulent tide. It befriends curious silverfin schools and toothy leviathan alike, finds fuel in the freshwater and power in the primordial. Leagues below the crush of the atmosphere, it strives to put its own spin on gravity.

       The rooftop garden bathes in the kaleidoscope babble of millions, quests boldly for the contrast of its green against city gridlock.

       The composter cranks out its joy in a gravelly mellow, turning in time to the umber crunch of fallen leaves from within.

       Sometimes a little new energy is all it takes to bring the beauty in the world to light