It came in overnight
I went to sleep an ordinary size and woke up with weather on top of me. There was no ceremony. Nothing announced it. It was simply there in the morning, wide and heavy and quietly in charge.
People keep asking when I will take it off. That is like asking a hill when it will stop.
Rain is the one day I am useful
Everything smaller than me gets under here without asking and I let them, because it is the only hour of the week where the shape of my head is a service instead of a problem.
When it stops they leave without saying anything. That is fine. That is the arrangement.
I can only look down
The brim sits low. I see moss, roots, the tops of small stones, the same four metres of ground for hours. I have learned that patch better than anyone alive.
To see the sky I have to lean the whole body back, and by then I have usually decided I did not need to.
Two more turned up and I kept them
Small ones, one in each hand, exactly like me but at the beginning. I did not plan on this. I have no advice for them and no plan for the wood and no interest in being followed.
They follow anyway. The glasses were their idea.
Stay under it as long as you like. Nobody out there is counting.