Belts once carried bolts and sparks,
Now they ferry seedlings and rain.
Robotic arms relearn patience,
Turning soil instead of steel.
Assembly lines bloom in segments,
Each station growing a season.
The clock punches out its urgency,
And time clocks sprout moss.
The manuals survive as recipe books,
Explaining how to assemble orchards.
We follow diagrams of roots,
And certify clouds for shading work.