Along a hillside, alone and unplugged So I heard that cars can drive themselves, And that a metal voice will ship groceries to my door. I sit along this hillside, and I wonder if man’s machines will one day Provide me the pinch of sun I see through the crooked clouds, Or the trill of the wind along an unspoiled path, Or the shortness of fall’s first breath on my lungs. Among the rugged weeds I spot a patch of flowers, And I hear the unbroken song of leaping waves along the shore. I am alone and unplugged, and pleased to know that there is no such machine yet That can paint a vibrant rainbow across the blue-gray sky, Nor offer the numb solitude of…
