The Writer's Almanac

Weeknights at 10:00 PM
Garrison Keillor

Beloved radio host Garrison Keillor recounts the highlights of that day in history and reads a short poem or two.



  • Friday, January 30, 2015 1:01am
    It is 1959. It is the cusp of the coming revolution. We still like Ike. We are still afraid of Sputnik. We read Life magazine and Sports Illustrated where the athletes grow up shooting hoops in the driveway, playing catch in the backyard. We sit on our sectional sofa. My mother loves Danish modern. Our... Read more »
  • Thursday, January 29, 2015 1:01am
    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 »
  • Wednesday, January 28, 2015 1:01am
    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 »
  • Tuesday, January 27, 2015 1:01am
    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 »
  • Monday, January 26, 2015 1:01am
    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 »