There was an old person of Brigg,
Who purchased no end of a wig;
So that only his nose,
And the end of his toes,
Could be seen when he walked about Brigg.

Yesterday I walked to the end of Filey Brigg
The sea was brown to landward blue to seaward
The tide was coming in as I reached the end
The two seas sloshed at each other across the limestone slabs
 
Yesterday I walked on a long curving stretch of beach
The sand was almost dry under my walking boots
The tide had left a golden arc for kite-running children
The sea was a patchwork of shadows flecked white in the wind
 
Yesterday I sat in the sun and briefly sketched
The sky was a vast armada of clouds sailing the troposphere
The sun primed their canvas sails every shade of white
The wind rose and fell in waves of moor-scented air    
 
Yesterday I brought my lover here through time and space
The woldland was every green in Hockney's paint box
The trees stood in distant lines still waiting for their leaves
The breeze ruffled her delicate hair kissed her freckled cheek

Ian rules the skies, or so he thinks.
He sweeps, swoops and flies.
Ian flies high, but often sinks.
This chimp thinks he is a master of the skies.

Wind strong, gusty and more east.
#Ianthechimp eyes up his strong launch stance.
Paragliding wing is placed in full view of the beast.
The beast, the east, sees his chance.

With gusto, malice and a cheeky blast.
The east wind has no regret.
Ian, launch, lifted as he is turned fast.
Words wafted up high ... OH ****.

A wild swing as the chimp holds rake.
The beastly east tries some more.
One eye closed, Ian applies brake.
East is beaten, Ian is secure.

Yet the east, the beast, lies at height wait.
Ian climbs out of Cayton Bay.
The wind is hiding high with lifty bait.
Ian takes the leaving line, refusing to stay.

The beast announces himself with malice.
Ian regrets his cross country aim.
Losing speed and height palace.
Reach for Filey Brigg, or run without shame.

Turn, aim home and fly fast.
The beast has one more trick.
Return to the bay with turn last.
He hits the paraglider like a brick.

Wobble, rotor, accelerated flight.
A return to the safety of the bay.
To land on top would cause fright.
****** that Ian, beach landing with obey.

What have we learnt about the beastly east.
With its mean, malice and playful unfun.
Don't challenge, else decease.
Play in the air, climb and top land shun.