The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
When some people talk about money They speak as if it were a mysterious lover Who went out to buy milk and never Came back, and it makes me nostalgic For the years I lived on coffee and bread, Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday Like a woman journeying for water From... Read more »
Wherever the flamingo goes, she brings a city’s worth of furbelows. She seems unnatural by nature— too vivid and peculiar a structure to be pretty, and flexible to the point of oddity. Perched on those legs, anything she does seems like an act. Descending on her egg or draping her head along her back, she’s... Read more »
I know why they say the heart is in the heart. When you think about people you love, you get warm there. I want to thank my sister for loving me, which taught me to love. I’m not sure what she loved in me, besides my love for her—maybe that I was a copy of... Read more »
The peonies, too heavy with their beauty, slump to the ground. I had hoped they would live forever but ever so slowly day by day they’re becoming the soil of their birth with a faint tang of deliquescence around them. Next June they’ll somehow remember to come alive again, a little trick we have or... Read more »
1 Last days before first frost we stroll out hand in hand to see yellow sulfurs lift in multitudes over the fields flittering in ecstatic pairs to descend and spangle the hay 2 Months later trudging winter fields in the morning sun we see their million rapturous spirits have risen through layers of drift to... Read more »
A neighborhood. At dusk. Things are getting ready to happen out of sight. Stars and moths. And rinds slanting around fruit. But not yet. One tree is black. One window is yellow as butter. A woman leans down to catch a child who has run into her arms this moment. Stars rise. Moths flutter. Apples... Read more »