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Each day, Garrison Keillor recounts the highlights of this day in history and reads a short poem or two on The Writer's Almanac.

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Last updated: Thursday, March 30 2017 07:39 AM

Hitchhiking by David Hecker | Thursday, March 30, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Thursday, March 30 2017 06:01 AM

The only time I ever hitchhiked, my thumb attracted the driver of a sixteen wheeler. He said he needed company to stay awake, been on the road for eighteen hours, hauling a huge caterpillar on the back of his rig. I was headed to my home town a hundred miles away to visit friends, cruise... Read more »

A Shropshire Lad: XIII by A. E. Housman | Wednesday, March 29, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Wednesday, March 29 2017 06:01 AM

When I was one-and-twenty     I heard a wise man say, ‘Give crowns and pounds and guineas     But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies     But keep your fancy free.’ But I was one-and-twenty,     No use to talk to me. When I was one-and-twenty     I heard him say again, ‘The heart out of the... Read more »

Lies My Mother Told Me by Elizabeth Thomas | Tuesday, March 28, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Tuesday, March 28 2017 06:01 AM

If you keep eating raw spaghetti          you’ll get pinworms,          then I’ll have to make          a necklace of garlic for you to wear          each night while you sleep,          until they go away. If you’re mean to your younger brother, I’ll know          because I have a special eye          that spies on you when I’m not home.          You... Read more »

XII. by Wendell Berry | Monday, March 27, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Monday, March 27 2017 06:01 AM

The old man is in the last days of work he has done and loved for many years. He is mowing with his old team, the white horse and the black, on the open hillside under the open sky, within the surrounding woods. This work once was known by many of his kind, and he... Read more »

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost | Sunday, March 26, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Sunday, March 26 2017 06:01 AM

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the... Read more »

Perennial by Kendra Tanacea | Saturday, March 25, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Saturday, March 25 2017 06:01 AM

The rhododendron in Monroe          from the picture window of my childhood home, that gave us, every year, its first bloom on the fourth          of June. Lilacs every April, a constant hedge of baby’s breath. These things          still happen in my absence. And, at the edge of the yard, where all my efforts cease,          the wild... Read more »

A Shropshire Lad, II by A. E. Housman | Friday, March 24, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Friday, March 24 2017 06:01 AM

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in... Read more »

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do by Tony Hoagland | Thursday, March 23, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Thursday, March 23 2017 06:01 AM

On Friday afternoon David said he was divesting his holdings                      in Stephanie dot org. And Cindy announced she was getting rid of all her Dan-obelia,                 and did anyone want a tennis racket or a cardigan? Alice told Michael that she was transplanting herself                         to another brand of potting soil And Jason composed a 3-chord blues... Read more »

VII. by Wendell Berry | Wednesday, March 22, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Wednesday, March 22 2017 06:01 AM

What a wonder I was when I was young, as I learn by the stern privilege of being old: how regardlessly I stepped the rough pathways of the hillside woods, treaded hardly thinking the tumbled stairways of the steep streams, and worked unaching hard days thoughtful only of the work, the passing light, the heat,... Read more »

The Order of the Day by Billy Collins | Tuesday, March 21, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Tuesday, March 21 2017 06:01 AM

A morning after a week of rain and the sun shot down through the branches into the tall, bare windows. The brindled cat rolled over on his back, and I could hear you in the kitchen grinding coffee beans into a powder. Everything seemed especially vivid because I knew we were all going to die,... Read more »