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 these 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 upon 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 a meandering walk, the sun warm on my back.
Just as there is no gadget yet that can high-five a student in the hallway,
Nor encourage the glad cries of children at play.
I smile a grin of confidence in knowing that there is no invention that the world has made,
Nor one that it will ever conceive,
That will replace the warmth and depth of a great school teacher,
Forming young minds as an artist shapes vases out of clay.
- Daniel J. Evans
