The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

The Writer's Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

United States

A poem each day, plus literary and historical notes from this day in history

Episodes

Last Night I Was a Child Again in Raleigh by Corey Mesler | Tuesday, September 12, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Last night I was a child again in Raleigh. And the Dorich boys were on the roof and my sister was waiting behind the Monopoly board and it was summer and the heat was like a separate personality and dogs wandered here and there unhindered by fences or leashes and I could see how my... Read more »

Nine-Eleven by Charlotte Parsons | Monday, September 11, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

You passed me on the street I rode the subway with you You lived down the hall from me I admired your dog in the park one morning We waited in line for a concert I ate with you in the cafes You stood next to me at the bar We huddled under an awning... Read more »

Moon-Breath by Mary Jo Salter | Saturday, September 09, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Dark mornings staying dark longer, another autumn come, and the body one day poorer yet, from restless sleep I wake early now to note how the pale disk of moon caves to its own defeat, cold as yesterday’s fish left over in the pan, or miserly as a sliver of dried soap in a dish.... Read more »

The Field by Tim Nolan | Friday, September 08, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Remember that meadow up above the ridge where the dog ran around in circles and we were tired from the climb up and everything was tilted sideways including the running in circles of the ecstatic dog his bright tongue lapping at the air and we were leaning into the heart of the field where no... Read more »

London by William Blake | Thursday, September 07, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

I wander thro’ each charter’d street, Near where the charter’d Thames does flow. And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infants cry of fear, In every voice: in every ban, The mind-forg’d manacles I hear How the Chimney-sweepers cry Every blackning... Read more »

Nature Walk by Gillian Wegener | Wednesday, September 06, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

The fern fronds glow with a clean, green light, and I lift one and point out the spores, curled like sleep on the back, the rows so straight, so even, that I might be convinced of Providence at this moment. My daughter is seven. She looks at the spores, at the leaf, at the plant,... Read more »

Letter to My Husband Far Away by Gillian Wegener | Tuesday, September 05, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

The house is not empty without you. It thrums and bumps, the walls relax and sigh. The water heater dutifully comes on, rumbles with heat, waiting for your shower to start. How many times today have I heard your truck in the driveway, the floor creak with your step, felt your breath against the back... Read more »

Drift by Charles Rafferty | Monday, September 04, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Long ago, the old friends stopped calling. I used to think they had lost my number. Now I forgive them their children and their jobs, their wives and their divorces, their cancer and their lawns, the fifteen minutes they allow themselves at the piano every night. I am able to go on without them—a kind... Read more »

The Sound of It by Annie Lighthart | Sunday, September 03, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor  

Just a piano playing plainly, not even for long, and yet I suddenly think of fields of timothy and how a cow and I once studied each other over a fence while the car ticked and cooled behind me. When I turned around I was surprised that it had not sprouted tall grass from its... Read more »

0:00/0:00
Video player is in betaClose