The Blue Hat

By WYATT TOWNLEY

The forecast was wrong.
The bald guy smiling
but wrong. The blonde
with swinging hair

wrong. Their software,
their reading of currents. Rain,
they said, rain for days.

We wore the wrong shoes,
postponed the garden,
the walk in the woods.
Overhead: blue—and red
tailed hawks make their arcs;
sun and wind cross
in a tango of shadows.

The forecast was wrong.
And that prognosis?
The doctor sat down.
We had the chat.

Now lose the umbrella
for the big blue hat.

 

[Purchase Issue 12 here.]

Wyatt Townley is a recovering dancer (now yoga teacher) and the former Poet Laureate of Kansas (2013-15). Her poems have been read by Garrison Keillor on NPR, featured in Ted Kooser’s syndicated column, and published in journals including The Paris Review, North American Review, Prairie Schooner, and The Yale Review. Her books of poetry include The Breathing Field, Perfectly Normal, and The Afterlives of Trees.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

The Blue Hat

Related Posts

Book cover of Making the Turn by Wyatt Townley

Dancing on the Ceiling: Meaning Movement in Wyatt Townley’s Making the Turn

AIDAN COOPER
Perhaps “Wedding Vows” epitomizes Making the Turn: a falling that becomes, or rather makes itself known as, falling together. It considers surrendering control and finding oneself an instance of a larger, universe-spanning tango. The whole book does this, flowing with direct, dizzying specificity

Headshot of Brionne Janae

September 2026 Poetry Feature

BRIONNE JANAE
did you keep your mind? / you got to walk it for yourself / and on returning what state did you find it in? / as in what state were you in? / were you where you left yourself? / and who was left? / was anyone left? / and how sure were you that you could reach them?

Cover of Dear Mothership

August Poetry Feature

ELLEN HINSEY
Never forget: the Tyrant time reached others before you—they too weathered the deluge of its tempest-strewn path. For Tyranny always imagines it will write history. But, time and again, it is Justice that will arise, then bow down to write—the history of Tyranny’s demise, instead.