Cocooned in Time, at this inhuman height, br The packaged food tastes neutrally of clay, br We never seem to catch the running day br But travel on in everlasting night br With all the chic accoutrements of flight: br Lotions and essences in neat array br And yet another plastic cup and tray. br 'Thank you so much. Oh no, I'm quite all right'. br br At home in Cornwall hurrying autumn skies br Leave Bray Hill barren, Stepper jutting bare, br And hold the moon above the sea-wet sand. br The very last of late September dies br In frosty silence and the hills declare br How vast the sky is, looked at from the land.