The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
After years of marriage, he stands at the foot of the bed and tells his wife that she will never know him, that for everything he says there is more that he does not say, that behind each word he utters there is another word, and hundreds more be- hind that one. All those unsaid... Read more »
Before I went to sleep, the soft lamplights from the tenements across the street, still, in the night, resembled peace. There is something I forgot to be grateful for. But I’m not uneasy. This poem is enough gratitude for the day. That leaf tapping against the window, enough music for the night. My love’s even... Read more »
From the balcony of the Thetford Hill First Congregational Church I look down at the choir singing the adoration of Christ their Lord the high foreheads of the older women shine why! that’s the very condition of my own forehead which seemed in the bathroom mirror to appear increasingly intelligent this morning the delicate daily hair loss contributing... Read more »
I was feeling lonely so I went outside to the wind swept yard and beyond that to the wind-tousled outer yard and found where last night in the moonlight we left two sets of boot prints, when you stopped on your way through the darkness to bring a lemon bar and a movie, and beside... Read more »
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquility; The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder—everlastingly. Dear Child!... Read more »
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound... Read more »