So cool and fresh the air you bring to us
just when poor sufferers need it the most.
Hot sweltering days of one hundred plus
when both body and mind turn into toast.
In your chill, millions comfortably rest
as long as the grid can provide power.
Those in your presence believe they are blessed
bask in your glory for many an hour.
Some think this worship is ugly to view
like the Luddites who hate technology.
Others hold candles of unwavering hue
call you golden calf of idolatry.
Know your fickle faithful will rant and rail
cast you down as false God the moment you fail.