I’ve always been fond of hats, probably because of that classic work of children’s literature, Go Dog Go. I tried and failed to wear many hats as a youth, including a flatcap of my grandfather’s that looks terrible on me. I even wrote at least one other poem on the subject of hats, a classic that I fear has been lost to time and the garbage can entitled “My Hat is Flat.” But I never really felt at home in them until, one day in Boston, I walked into an actual hat shop and walked back out with my first fedora. Since then, I’ve become somewhat known for my hats. My Bible study comments on them frequently, for example, and recently a coworker (who, admittedly, I don’t work with closely) didn’t recognize me until I said my name. “I would have recognized you if you were wearing a hat,” he said.
The particularly hilarious thing about this? Hats are literally code for “it’s a non-hair wash day and I didn’t feel like doing anything with my hair.”
Oh noes! Now you know my secret!
Anyway, I wrote today’s sonnet for the November 2017 Poem a Day challenge. The prompt was “Things.” Is this sonnet a bit silly? Yes. But what fun is poetry if you can’t be silly with it occasionally?
A Meditation on Hats
Originally written November 8, 2017. #119
A hat covers a multitude of sins,
Like bad hair days or toiletry mishaps.
Just get a hat with a nice big, wide brim,
Or aviator style with big earflaps.
A cloche for when your bangs just can’t be seen;
Fedoras to become a ’50s spy;
Berets to match with bright Parisian preen;
Or baseball to keep sunlight from your eyes.
A hat can help in many different ways:
To help the skin by blocking harmful sun,
Or to convey authority: “Obey!”
Or—thinking caps, to make this sonnet done.
Though it be straw or cloth, leather or felt,
In any circumstance, a hat can help.