The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
Now as the year turns toward its darkness the car is packed, and time come to start driving west. We have lived here for many years and been more or less content; now we are going away. That is how things happen, and how into new places, among other people, we shall carry our lives... Read more »
I needed a heavy canvas jacket riding the cold red tractor, air an ice cube on bare skin. Blue sky over the aspen grove I drove through on the way back to the field, throttle wide open, the empty wagon I pulled hitting all the bumps on the dirt road. In the high branches of... Read more »
They are olive green and elegant, tails curved to a fine point, these lizards that my daughter cares for so lovingly in the terrarium in the back of her science classroom in Brooklyn, miniature dinosaurs, motionless as yogis, fingers curled around a branch. She has worked long underpaid hours to create this wonderland while the... Read more »
Winter winds cold and blea Chilly blows o’er the lea: Wander not out to me, Jenny so fair, Wait in thy cottage free. I will be there. Wait in thy cushioned chair Wi’ thy white bosom bare. Kisses are sweetest there: Leave it for me. Free from the chilly air I will meet thee. How... Read more »
The ticket office was closing when we arrived and were informed our train had departed ahead of schedule. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Trains leave on time, or late, but never early.” “Such things happen,” the agent replied, “more often than you would think.” “Look around,” he added, “and pay attention. It’s not just... Read more »
I fall in love with that one glimpse of her from behind, something about the bend of her arm, the tilt of her head now, listening, or simply the weight and sheen of her hair, hoping sooner or later she may turn, that she might be someone I loved once, or the other me I... Read more »