The last time I was up in the hills-
An Autumn day with the rain advancing
From Manchester- I rang you up
On the mobile, told you how blue my view
Is Ted Hughes-unfriendly. The wilderness
Is optional; I can switch it off
And chat with a person who's sat at home
In an armchair. We're at the point of change
To a way of living that won't see strange
In a few more years. Already they're calling
The Blair Witch Project implausible,
Not because of the ghost but because
"They'd have taken their cell-phones, wouldn't they?"
In the future then people just won't get lost
In the hills or the woods or even the desert.
Wherever they are there'll be friendly voices
A tittup away.
The hills really got to me. Wraiths of fog
Went slithering past and the copse ahead
Looked good for an ambush. Well, that won't happen
Again, because if my nerve were going
I 'd give you a call and reduce the space
Between us, including that horrible copse,
To a large scale ordnance survey map,
Spread out on the table with us above it,
Holding it smooth with our finger tips.