<p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;"><<If I Sing of Power Grids>></span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">If I sing of power grids,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">I’d skip towers piercing clouds, stern and cold,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Or substations humming solitudes untold.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">I’d write of dawns in early winter’s grip—</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Frost on hard hats, numb fingers on the trip,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Wrenches biting bolts like rusted teeth of years,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Breathing mist to mend the silver string that veers.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">If I sing of power grids,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">I’d trace seventy years of footprints in the dark,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">From oil-lamp lanes to ultra-high voltage’s arc.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Cables warmed by three generations’ hands</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Bury light’s code in frozen soil and volcanic lands.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Sweat-stained maps on uniforms chart the land’s pulse,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">And through torn gloves, starlight mends the night’s convulse.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">If I sing of romance,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">I’d tell of blizzard nights returning from repair,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Control screens blooming with spring flowers fair—</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Dispatchers painting with currents, tender and deep,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Hiding lullabies in load curves as cities sleep.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">I’d tie moonlines to towers, let urban ships safely keep.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">The deepest vow? A silent charged flow—</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Like electrons through copper, we through storms go,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Guarding the morning stars that never fade below.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Now base stations hum like the earth’s own heartbeats strong,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">Birds migrate along silver wires, an eternal song.</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">New green power sprouts in clouds, ripe and true,</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">And my verse will sink to kilowatt-hours, burning bright for you—</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:15px;">A speck of dust aflame, in denominators’ steady view.</span></p>