Years ago, 
    I wore an old black hat.
Went to college,
    I’d be educated at.

Came from herdin’ cattle
    a way back then.
Carin’ for bovines,
    processin' and doctorin’ them.

Workin’ the range,
    makin’ hay.
Bein’ my youthful,
   busy way.

Springtime,
    to pasture takin’ the herd.
Fall round-up,
   comin’ back, they preferred.

Ya, I traded that old black hat,
    a bit dusty and worn,
for a piece of clean parchment,
    on the wall to adorn.

You see that old black hat,
    city folks’ ideals it didn’t fit.
As time slid by,
   it’s no longer in the outfit.

It was my old black hat,
    I missed over the years unsung.
On its peg at the back door,
    it no longer hung.

When I remember,
    that old black hat.
Memories,
    they come floodin’ back.

Memories of good times,
    it brings.
Memories of tough times,
    that still stings.

Times on the open grasslands,
    in coulee and ravines.
Times workin’ cattle,
    out of bush and timber unseen.

Ya, that old black hat,
    protected from hot blisterin’ sun.
Shaded eyes lookin’ for strays,
   watchin’ for what’s done.

It sheltered from,
    rain and snow that chill.
Guarded against,
    ragin’ storms that spill.

Swatted mosquitos and flies,
    botherin’ the ride.
Fanned to cool,
    the hot day's swelterin’ tide.

Removed in,
    the stillness of night.
That comes silently,
    with starry light.

Back a year or so ago,
    officiatin’ a wedding, I was to go.
He handsome,
    and she most beautifully aglow.

Western dress it must be,
    a good black hat to refine.
To fit the occasion,
    it would define.

In Lethbridge, I was,
    as things would be.
Visitin’ Mom,
    she at ninety-three.

Younger sister,
    working’ the thrift store.
I’d go to see,
    if a black hat, I could restore.

Pushin’ open the glass front door,
    I entered amid noise and clutter.
To find the place,
    of boots and hats a flutter.

Ya! There it is!
    A black hat!
Good shape!
    Fits perfectly at that.

Twenty dollars,
    said the tag.
It’s Seniors’ Day.
    Hey! I’m a senior with a flag.

It’s declared that hat,
    half price.
Ten dollars for that black hat,
    I’d gladly pay twice.

Now, sisters’,
    percentage off.
Five dollars,
    for that black hat aloft.

Governments’ portion,
    adds twenty-five cents more.
Five dollars, twenty-five cents I pay,
    for a black hat as before.

Now, here I am,
    wearin’ a black hat, again.
A coincident?
    Absolutely not, it's plain.

Ya, long gone now,
    is that hat old and black.
For that old black hat,
    memories seldom lack.

Now, here I am,
    I have a new black hat,
to fill with memories most golden,
    just like that old black hat.

     Tim Kirby
     December 1, 2019