Fisherman's cap

There had been a storm and a 100 years wave
had struck many fishing vessels sunk
I found on the beach a yellow southwestern cap I wondered
if the owner of the cap was on deck
when the mountain of water hit and splintered his boat
into pieces that would drift ashore collected
as winter wood for the poor  
Had the wave knocked him out, and he died unconscious
of the horror of the raging ocean no time to think of
his wife or friends left behind, and fishes would eat him
Maceral are fond of human flesh, I found a finger
once when gutting a maceral, it read “from Maria forever.”
I took the waterproof put it on a stone
perhaps a passer-by might find it put it on his head
not knowing about the tragedy at sea.