The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
When I was a child I once sat sobbing on the floor Beside my mother’s piano As she played and sang For there was in her singing A shy yet solemn glory My smallness could not hold And when I was asked Why I was crying I had no words for it I only shook... Read more »
Nights when I can’t sleep, I listen to the sea lions barking from the rocks off the lighthouse. I look out the black window into the black night and think about fish stirring the oceans. Muscular tuna, their lunge and thrash churning the water, whipping up a squall, storm of hunger. Herring cruising, river of... Read more »
After an argument, my family always dined at the Chinese restaurant. Something about the Orient washed the bitterness away. Like a riverbank where you rest for awhile. The owner bowed as we entered. The face of one who had seen too much. A revolution. The torture of loved ones. Horrors he would never reveal. His... Read more »
Let us step outside for a moment As the sun breaks through clouds And shines on wet new fallen snow, And breathe the new air. So much has died that had to die this year. We are dying away from things. It is a necessity—we have to do it Or we shall be buried under... Read more »
You’ve lost something, your car keys, or your watch and you have searched for what seems like hours. But then suddenly it appears, right there on the table, not two feet away. “If it was a snake it would have bit you,” Mother said. That’s what you remember, a phrase, an old saying. My sister... Read more »
For some time I thought there was time and that there would always be time for what I had a mind to do and what I could imagine going back to and finding it as I had found it the first time but by this time I do not know what I thought when I... Read more »