My Poem to the Robots

Robots
muscle in on airless planets.
digging, scraping, sifting.
Some freeze up from the cold.
Others melt on worlds
too close to their sun.
Most report back their findings.
Many deliver them to robots Earth-side
who poke and prod, analyze, assay.

Robots are out there somewhere.
They're around here everywhere.
They do the work that we cannot.
They even do the work we do
only more efficiently.
As I write this.
I'm nervously looking over my shoulder.