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  1. For Frances by Ogden Nash | Thursday, March 16, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/16
    Geniuses of countless nations Have told their love for generations Till all their memorable phrases Are common as goldenrod or daisies. Their girls have glimmered like the moon, Or shimmered like a summer noon, Stood like lily, fled like fawn, Now like sunset, now like dawn, Here the princess in the tower, There the sweet... Read more »
  2. Home by William Stafford | Wednesday, March 15, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/15
    Our father owned a star, and by its light we lived in father’s house and slept at night. The tragedy of life, like death and war, were faces looking in at our front door. But finally all came in, from near and far: you can’t believe in locks and own a star.
  3. Hamburger Heaven by Ronald Wallace | Tuesday, March 14, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/14
    Tonight we find them again, parked under the stars (no one ever eats inside in Heaven), beeping the tired carhop with her pageboy and mascara for a paper boat of French fries drenched in sauce, a smashed hamburger baptized with spices. They’re sixteen and in love; the night is hot, sweet and tangy on their... Read more »
  4. The Presence by Maxine Kumin | Monday, March 13, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/13
    Something went crabwise across the snow this morning. Something went hard and slow over our hayfield. It could have been a raccoon lugging a knapsack, it could have been a porcupine carrying a tennis racket, it could have been something supple as a red fox dragging the squawk and spatter of a crippled woodcock. Ten... Read more »
  5. First House by Connie Wanek | Sunday, March 12, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/12
    We bought a house made of mud and straw. Thieves stole my sewing machine and my turquoise ring. They stole your music, and the needle you lowered with one steady finger. To lose these things. I learned. We had a little girl and I never let her out of my arms. Summer nights we sat... Read more »
  6. Things to Think by Robert Bly | Saturday, March 11, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/11
    Think in ways you’ve never thought before. If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message Larger than anything you’ve ever heard, Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats. Think that someone may bring a bear to your door, Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose Has risen out of the... Read more »
  7. Revival by Luci Shaw | Friday, March 10, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/10
    March. I am beginning to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost where the moles have nosed up their cold castings, and the ground cover in shadow under the cedars hasn’t softened for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice around foliage and stem night by night, but... Read more »
  8. Field Guide by Tony Hoagland | Thursday, March 09, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/09
    Once, in the cool blue middle of a lake, up to my neck in that most precious element of all, I found a pale-gray, curled-upwards pigeon feather floating on the tension of the water at the very instant when a dragonfly, like a blue-green iridescent bobby pin, hovered over it, then lit, and rested. That’s... Read more »
  9. Weather by Faith Shearin | Wednesday, March 08, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/08
    There is weather on the day you are born and weather on the day you die. There is the year of drought, and the year of floods, when everything rises and swells, the year when winter will not stop falling, and the year when summer lightning burns the prairie, makes it disappear. There are the... Read more »
  10. A World of Singers by Ralph Stevens | Tuesday, March 07, 2017 | The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor 2017/03/07
    We live in a world of singers and the song is loud or soft, sweet or shrill, sometimes silent. But listen. With a storm approaching someone shelters a robin’s nest. Another whistles to a black dog on the beach. One laughs to herself, reading alone in the kitchen. In the woodlot someone grunts as he... Read more »
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A poem each day, plus literary and historical notes from this day in history

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