The Writer's Almanac

Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.

Recent Episodes

The Writer’s Almanac for January 29, 2015

We’d not have guessed that we’d be heartened so To see this snowshoe rabbit, months from snow, Come from the woods with that shy tread of his, Drawn by our bushy rows of lettuces, His summer coat all rich soft grays and browns, His feet as overstated as a clown’s. How delicate he is: he... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for January 28, 2015

In trains we need not choose our company For all the logic of departure is That recognition is suspended; we Are islanded in unawareness, as Our minds reach out to where we want to be. But carried thus impersonally on, We hardly see that person opposite Who, if we only knew it, might be one... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for January 27, 2015

On the street outside the window someone is talking to someone else, a baffling song, no words, only the music of voices—low contralto of questions, laughter’s plucked strings—voices in darkness below stars where someone straddles a bike up on the balls of his feet, and someone else stands firm on a curb, her arms crossed,... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for January 26, 2015

Why, Dot asks, stuck in the back seat of her sister’s two-door, her freckled hand feeling the roof for the right spot to pull her wide self up onto her left, the unarthritic, ankle—why does her sister, coaching outside on her cane, have to make her laugh so, she flops back just as she was,... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for January 25, 2015

Before the beginning Thou hast foreknown the end,   Before the birthday the death-bed was seen of Thee: Cleanse what I cannot cleanse, mend what I cannot mend.   O Lord All-Merciful, be merciful to me. While the end is drawing near I know not mine end:   Birth I recall not, my death I cannot foresee: O... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for January 24, 2015

Nests in the eaves stir in the dawn Ephemeral as our peace Morning prayer Grace before food I understand The endless sky the small earth The shadow cone Your shining Lips and eyes Your thighs drenched with the sea A telescope full of fireflies Innumerable nebulae all departing Ten billion years before we ever met