Two really, one my father pressed upon me to take.
He has a small head, my dad.
The hat fit me. At first, declining
I shook my head. smiled gently.
but his insistence, like a plaintive bleat
could not be shook. He so wanted
me to have it, needed me
to take it from his diminishing consciousness.
I put a feather in it, and wore it home.
Thrust in my direction a hat stand
complete with hat –
Anitra urged me to take.
The hat, belonged to a Moose
too big for my head.
But it’s purpleness
could not be denied, insisted
like a horn, that I take it home.
And so I did.
It will fit soon.