The Hat
one day long ago
in a place that is no longer
on any map
she went out for a stroll
along a wooded path
she wore a hat
she did not intend to attract attention
when the rains came she was far from home
she couldn't see the path in front of her
not even her own hand
held up close to her eyes
and what's more
her hat
was lost
just when she most wanted her hat
at the very moment when she really needed that hat
the reason why she got that hat in the first place
the purpose of the hat
the essence of the hat
the hatness of the hat
it was
lost
disappeared
vanished
she was swallowed up by the rain
hatless
the tip of her nose turned red
her earlobes
shriveled
she was overcome with sorrow
we are talking about her now
but also we are talking about the hat
have you ever known a hat to feel
sorry for itself?
yes
it happens that way sometimes
this is one of those times
small poems:
waiting waiting waiting being
in this moment only the lake no past no future
elephant clouds tail to trunk lazy afternoon
meditation teacher talks talks talks talks talks about silence
crossing the bridge stop breathe hello ducks
nose to nose with a bee i step back from the flower
lonely day spending hours among the heavy clouds
counting breaths starting over starting over yet again
morning walk two white butterflies look familiar
high summer letting go one word at a time
it cools me off reading winter poetry
a different hat each morning a new me
July pillow seeking a cool spot on either side
silly typo mother corrects me with an emoticon
tall grasses in old beer bottles
(and one cigar butt)
my neighbor's porch
