my hunting hat

Finally the day has come to be set free. it slips onto the bouncy pieces of curl that sprung from my head. As it sits there the scrub uses most of its strengh to yank the hat off my head. As we move further into the bush the warmth of the hat pushes the chills away. Finally the early morning cold is over but it still has to stay on the head. Suddenly the blackberry bush swings the hat out of position and dangles it on a spike. luckily I notice and run to its rescue. After the weekend has finished The hat must go back to Its life. Lying in darkness with the smell of a lavender bag slipped in the back of my draw. if I did not have my hunting hat hunting wouldn't be the same.