Carmina Coombs,
With a dramatic flourish
Swept the back of her hand
To her forehead
In a groaning lament...nearly in tears...
Since a sudden gust of wind
Blew her straw pillbox hat
Into a street puddle,
Where it floated like half a walnut shell.
But worse, a bird with a recycler's eye
And a tight talon's grip swooped in
And flew it to a tree,
Knowing that Darwin would surely applaud
A use to insure the comfort of the species...
Better than the useless waste of it 
Perched on Carmina's head.