Hull, May

the risen sun finds pilots still abed
still speculating what the day will bring
while buzzing insects swarm each netted head
as if we were the sweetest blooms of Spring
the season's on, despite calls for new snow
and Jake's with Kurtis, chasing epic flights
but we've a more bucolic place to go
surveying Pillsbury from RedSpot's heights
two days of soaring, 'though no one got high
on Sunday thermals topped out at the clouds
from here, it's hard to see a reason why
we'd spend our holiday with noise and crowds
a gentle shake-down as the year's begun
the sober pilots know that Hull's still fun