Sunday, July 3, 2016

                    On the finale show of Prairie Home,
                    The President himself called Garrison,
                    Which may not seem a subject for a poem
                    Unless you think, as I, that he is one
                    Outstanding figure of humanity
                    Whose wit and humor, merriment and song
                    For decades now have served our sanity
                    On Public Radio, where listeners throng.
                    The show, without him will continue on
                    With the direction of another host,
                    But no one can fill in for Garrison
                    Who’ll hover over it, a dancing ghost.
                        Sure, we’ll tune in and yet not cease to mourn
                        For, missing Garrison, we’ll be forlorn.