My Father’s Hat
We children learned to understand hat messages;
a jaunty angle brought lollies in the pockets
and laughter at the table, brow lower – serious times,
a need for long discussions before homework and bed.
Lower still – late home, the stumble in the hall
and my mother, frozen faced, serving the meal
in silence, while little ones, bewildered,
dared not drop a spoon or spill their milk.
foto – COLES SHELVES