The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
Grass grows in the night and early the mockingbirds begin their fleet courtships over puddles, upon wires, in the new green of the Spanish limes. Their white-striped wings flash as they flirt and dive. Wind in the chimes pulls music from the air, the sky’s cleared of its vast complications. In the pause before summer,... Read more »
During natural disasters two enemy animals will call a truce, so during a hurricane an owl will share a tree with a mouse and, during an earthquake, you might find a mongoose wilted and shivering beside a snake. The bear will sit down in a river and ignore the passing salmon just as the lion... Read more »
They are taking so many things with them: their sewing machines and fine china, their ability to fold a newspaper with one hand and swat a fly. They are taking their rotary telephones, and fat televisions, and knitting needles, their cast iron frying pans, and Tupperware. They are packing away the picnics and perambulators, the... Read more »
Though we know everything is bounded by time, there is, after all, baseball, in which time has its function, but does not rule. I remember one game, years ago, in the ninth inning, the home team, down seven runs, scored eight, and after two were out. So it’s possible, even though we think we know,... Read more »
A Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period- When March is scarcely here A Color stands abroad On Solitary Fields That Science cannot overtake But Human Nature feels. It waits upon the Lawn, It shows the furthest Tree Upon the furthest Slope you know It almost speaks to you.... Read more »
listen, he said, you ever seen a bunch of crabs in a bucket? no, I told him. well, what happens is that now and then one crab will climb up on top of the others and begin to climb toward the top of the bucket, then, just as he’s about to escape another crab grabs... Read more »