I tried sleeping, re-adjusting my hat, and such.
I never slept in a hat before and I am reminded of the Night Before Christmas, and "Ma in her kerchief, and I in my cap."
My hat is blue wool with a soft cotton lining. I feel cozy, and like an elf. I also feel I look rather generic when I am not wearing the hat, and I find that curious. I see my humanity more clearly. I feel androgynous, and not. I like my forehead. I have a strong forehead, like my shoulders.
I feel myself molting, and I heard what I believe was a screech owl just now, and thought what it would be to be a mouse picked up in the talons of an owl. Mary Oliver has a wonderful poem about that experience.
My eye now falls on this poem by W. S. Merwin.
Song of Man Chipping an Arrowhead
Little children you will all go
but the one you are hiding