Helicopter To The Scilly Isles

A helicopter
Takes you halfway to Heaven,
Yet still allows
Earth for a living toy.
Sheep and cows and horses walk
Out of a new Noah's Ark.
Roads are cat's cradle games.
Buildings litter the green
Like bricks on a nursery floor.
You notice
That Cornwall
Stretches its arm out west
Exactly the shape of the map.
All round the jigsaw margin
The sea says
‘Why not pretend
To break into foam?’
And over what seems real water
Models of ships
Scribble their wakes,
Yet never appear to move.

You will arrive
Before you grasp that you've started.
Only, leaving the craft,
Remember to clutch your skirt.
In the dying waft of the blades
It's apt to be lifted
Over your head
Like an inside–out umbrella,
By way of one last burst
Of nursery frolic.