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.

The Blue Hat

Related Posts

Image of a red sunset

Around Sunset

JAMES RICHARDSON
The days seem kindlier near sunset, easier / when they are softly falling away / with that feeling of sad happiness / that we call moved, moved that we are moved / and maybe imagining in the dimming / all over town.

A bar lightbulb shining in the dark.

Black-Out Baby

JULIET S. K. KONO 
Somewea in Colorado. / One nite, one woman wen go into layba / wen was real hot unda the black-out lite. / Into this dark-kine time, one baby wuz born. / Da baby was me. One black-out baby— / nosing aroun in the dark / wid heavy kine eyes, / and a “yellow-belly."

Matthew Lippman

Was to Get It

MATTHEW LIPPMAN
I tried to get in touch with my inner knowledge. / Turns out I have no inner knowledge. / I used to think I did. / Could sit on a rock contemplating the frog, the river, the rotisserie chicken / and know that everything is connected to everything else.