Missing Poetry

Some people have their morning coffee; I have my morning poetry. Or at least I used to. Today I learned that my radio station is developing some "exciting new programs," and to make way for them will stop airing The Writer's Almanac at 6:45 a.m. Listeners can still hear the program online, the announcer said.

But they won't, I'm afraid.  Or at least this one will not. I've had the program delivered to my inbox for years and I never listen to Garrison Keillor read the poem of the day. Sometimes I read it, but I  never listen to it.

No, what I had for years was serendipity. The program aired when I was often driving to Metro, and I could sip tea and drive and start the day with a gasp or a sigh; with a roll of the eyes or a sudden watering of them.

Poetry moves me. Even in the morning. I'll miss it.