These things have been appearing on more and more roofs just lately, probably driven by a generous financial incentive from Her Majesty’s Government (oh, and people’s concerns about climate change, of course). They’re supposed to be silent, but listen carefully . . .
We are your solar panels, monocrystalline, aloof.
We soak up all the sunshine that irradiates your roof
Those clouds are not a problem: they still let through radiation*
Which we export to the National Grid to power up the nation.
We’re bolted to the rafters and we’re here for years to come,
Exposed to all the elements, but we will not succumb.
We don’t mind rain, especially when our fronts have got all mucky –
It washes off the pigeon poo as well, if we are lucky.
At night we’re quite redundant, for the stars are just too weak;
And even when the moon is full, it’s empty, so to speak.
But when the Sun wakes up again, he sends us back to work,
We’ve got no choice, he is our boss and will not let us shirk.
So what do we get out of it? A share of what we earn you?
Some hope! We get the feeling that our problems don’t concern you.
This boredom and monotony will send us round the bend –
The novelty’s worn off now. When will it ever end?
The Feed-in Tariff income’s yours, but what’s in it for us?
Not a lot, it seems; but as we can’t kick up a fuss
We’ll have to make the best of things: security, the view,
Birdwatching and stargazing – well, there’s nothing else to do . . .
* True, but any cloud seriously reduces the amount!