There are so many hats with roots in the garden and then there's a poem
SHE LOVES HATS
Wide brimmed with,
without flowers and
ribbons. Casual
visors and baseball
caps or most perfect
of all: the umbrella.
Certain words
gladden her,
bumbershoot
in particular,
as she sallies forth
into the night-sky. (from Intentions/collaboration with Susan Gangel)
And breakfast was a showy hat of bread, goat cheese, cinammon & strawberries. No hat was worn in the eating of.
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