The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
The cat on the back of the sofa Watching the birds and squirrels Feed and frolic on the patio Outside the sliding glass window, Realizes he is living his life In a cage Only slightly larger than that Of the parakeet. Courtesy of his loving (themselves) owners, Who have bought his freedom From the pet... Read more »
He was a bad dog, and he did not care. When nature called he stood and lifted there. He chewed socks, rugs, and shoes, the rungs of chairs. Put on a leash, he locked his legs. He would not budge. Asleep, he barked and chased what was not there. Awake, he barked and chased what... Read more »
No one’s remembered much longer than a rock is remembered beside the road If he’s lucky or Some tune or harsh word uttered in childhood or back in the day. Still how nice to imagine some kid someday picking that rock up and holding it in his hand Briefly before he chucks it Deep in... Read more »
On this date many things happened. Governments were heaved into being, creeds were repeated, maps and speeches given and believed. There was quiet on this date. A little boy lived. There was sleep, and one birdcall stitched all the way through. On this date there was longing. Someone walked through a room. One hand brushed... Read more »
Years ago I had an old pea jacket Slightly scruffy but not unclean was my overall look and I lacked the easy assurance that comes with money because I had very little It was okay, not having money I wasn’t starving or lacking anything I needed though by contemporary standards I should have been envious... Read more »
The rain that came down last night in sheets of shaken foil while thunder trundled over the Bay and crooked spears of lightning splintered trees is rising now up stalks, lengthening leaves that wave their new bright banners tender as petals, seventeen shades of green pushing into sun. The soil feels sweet in my hands... Read more »