The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor
The Writer’s Almanac for March 6, 201503/06/15
The mind becomes a field of snow but then the snow melts and dandelions blink on and you can walk through them, your trousers plastered with dew. They’re all waiting for you but first here’s a booth where you can win a peacock feather for bursting a...
The Writer’s Almanac for March 5, 2015
So many things you’d not have thought of until they were given. Even the simple— a cottage cheese sandwich, a heron’s contractable neck. You eat. You look. Then you look back and it’s over. This life. This flood— unbargained for as lasting love was—...
The Writer’s Almanac for March 4, 2015
On that day in history, history took a day off. Current events were uneventful. Breaking news never broke. Nobody of any import was born, or died. (If you were born that day, bask in the inverted glory of your unimportance.) No milestones, no...
The Writer’s Almanac for March 3, 2015
Over the back of the Florida basker, over the froth of the Firth of Forth, Up from Tahiti and Madagascar, Lo, the sun walks north. The first bright day makes sing the slackers While leaves explode like firecrackers, The duck flies forth to greet the...
The Writer’s Almanac for March 2, 2015
In Istanbul, my ears three mornings heard the early call to prayer. At fuller light, heard birds then, water birds and tree birds, birds of migration. Like three knowledges, I heard them: incomprehension, sweetened distance, longing. When the body...
The Writer’s Almanac for March 1, 2015
We’ve moved into a bigger house. Now our voices wander among the rooms calling, Where are you? And what we can’t forget of other houses confuses us as we answer back and forth, Over here! It’s a little like returning to the village where you were...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 28, 2015
I watched them As they neared the lake They wheeled In a wide arc With beating wings And then They put their wings to sleep And glided downward in a drift Of pure abandonment Until they touched The surface of the lake Composed their wings And settled...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 27, 2015
The dead bee lies on the window ledge, a relic, its amber-yellow body barred in black and its head tucked in, dust gathering on every follicle and on the geodesic dome of the head—all tucked in and tucked away, so neat is death. And the many flies...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 26, 2015
Years later they find themselves talking about chances, moments when their lives might have swerved off for the smallest reason. What if I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning? What if you’d been out, as you were when I tried three times the night...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 25, 2015
Imagine you wake up with a second chance: The blue jay hawks his pretty wares and the oak still stands, spreading glorious shade. If you don’t look back, the future never happens. How good to rise in sunlight, in the prodigal smell of biscuits – eggs...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 24, 2015
Often in the morning the fog is thick over Jersey, Sometimes, like today, lifting later on To reveal with the clarity of a dream The wide river with its traffic, the cluttered far shore, And the hills beyond where hidden towns Send up spires like...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 23, 2015
The snow is falling on the tall pale reeds near the seashore, and even though in places the sky is heavy and dark, a pale sun peeps through casting its yellow light across the face of the waves coming in. Someone has left a bicycle leaning against the...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 22, 2015
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 21, 2015
With one dear friend we go up the highest mountain thousands of feet into the birdless snow and listen to our breaths in the still air for a long time beside the observatories later we stretch out on the dark crumbled lava slope looking west at the...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 20, 2015
Never better, mad as a hatter, right as rain, might and main, hanky-panky, hot toddy, hoity-toity, cold shoulder, bowled over, rolling in clover, low blow, no soap, hope against hope, pay the piper, liar liar pants on fire, high and dry, shoo-fly pie,...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 19, 2015
The text of today’s poem is not available online.
The Writer’s Almanac for February 18, 2015
It was afternoon tea, with tea foods spread out Like in the books, except that it was coffee. She made a tin pot of cowboy coffee, from memory, That’s what we used to call it, she said, cowboy coffee. The grounds she pinched up in her hands, not a...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 17, 2015
Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat, a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It’s his way of telling whether or not I’m dead. If I’m not, he wants to be...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 16, 2015
Now that the worst is over, they predict Something messy and difficult, though not Life-threatening. Clearly we needed To stock up on water and candles, making Tureens of soup and things that keep When electricity fails and phone lines fall. Igloos...
The Writer’s Almanac for February 15, 2015
Watching the hands of my son kneading challah dough on the maple cutting board in my kitchen, a memory rises of my mother bending over our kitchen table in Flatbush, pressing, stretching, folding flour, water, eggs into a living elastic. Sometimes in...
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