Out of the Woods Yet

But still hoping to get back
In them, if they have to be
Regrown from cones and acorns

To become themselves again.
The wind sweeps across the land,
Insomniac as cities.

Some people worry about
Machines thinking for themselves,
When people ought to worry

They’ll keep thinking for people,
Who will use them on people.
Really free-thinking machines

Could blossom other systems
Bringing the woods back with them.