Of all the gifts my life bestows on me
ideas I value most.
Computer treasures electricity
but software is a ghost
that current-craves as we require blood,
as sunshine is essential for the bud,
and we, elaborate, are built to be
concerned with more than molecules and mud.
And if I’m asked to name another thing
essential to my glee,
then language is the paragraph I’d sing
about as pet for me,
and I don’t need to name a favorite third
and I don’t care who thinks my joy’s absurd:
Ideas to me are food and foot and wing
and I am ever searching for a word.