WRFH/Radio Free Hillsdale 101.7 FM - The Poetry Fix: How Many Nights

Episode Date: June 14, 2026

In today’s episode of The Poetry Fix, join Erika Kyba to read Galway Kinnell's "How Many Nights," the work of a modern existentialist poet. We all remember our childhood fears of the dark, and how they dissipated with the sunrise. What are we to do, though, with a more adult, existential version of this experience?

Welcome to The Poetry Fix on Radio Free Hillsdale 101.7 FM. I'm your host, Erica Kaiba, bringing you your weekly fix of poetry from across time. Today we're reading Galway Cannell's How Many Nights. Most of us can probably remember being a child and laying awake at night, afraid of the dark. It's always funny how when the sun rises the next day, whatever we were afraid of at night seems to dissipate. Cannell's poem is about a more adult version of this experience. although we aren't told how old the narrator is exactly.

Some kind of existential terror or deep anxiety about his life grips the poet at night, but then, when he walks outside on a winter morning, what he finds is peace and quietude. The poet describes faint, peaceful breaths coming from animals that lie asleep beneath the ice. It could be that the poet is watching the animals breathe peacefully, feeling that he, with his complicated human soul and existential terror, doesn't have access to that same peace. But I feel like the scene strongly suggests that the narrator is collecting himself as he observes the tranquility of nature. When he steps out into the domain of day, he finds peace. Terror belongs to the domain of night.

But Galway Canell is a poet, so of course he can't let things be that simple. The very first lines of the poem challenged the dichotomy between the ten times. terror of night and the peacefulness of day. He begins with an address to the creator-spirit, maker of night and day. In other words, it's the same God that made both, and the poet wants us to wrestle with that. There's a suggestion of the same theme later on when Cannell lists the animals in the winter landscape, snake bear, earthworm, and ant. The first two are predators, with the snake especially bearing a strong association with the

fall of Genesis. The second two are harmless to humans, and they are constructive creatures. Ants are known for building for their elaborate constructions. And earthworms improve the health of the soil. It's easy to look at these creatures and to prove of them, whereas snakes and bears often inspire our fear. But whatever our relationship to these animals is, the poet reflects that they are all a part of creation and made by the same creator. And then the poem gets weirder. The last stanza of the poem features a screaming crow on a brand, just above the narrator.

It's very hard to know what to make of this figure. Crows are often interpreted as omens of death, which makes this image a little foreboding, especially given the narrator's recent knights of terror. But then again, various cultures interpret crows as messengers from the afterlife, not necessarily as bad omens. And then there are the various folk tales that portray the crow as a trickster figure. Given all these disparate legends, which don't have

necessarily agree with one another. What are we to make of the crow's appearance at the close of the poem? How is Connell using this symbolic image to meditate on his chosen theme? Let's consider that as we dive in. How Many Nights by Galway Canal. How many nights have I lain in terror, O Creator Spirit, maker of night and day, only to walk out at morning over the frozen world, hearing under the creek of snow, faint, peaceful breaths, snake, bear, earthworm, ant. And above me a wild crow crying, ya, ya, ya, ya, from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life. You've been listening to The Poetry Fix with Erica Kaiba. If you enjoyed this episode, consider following the Poetry Fix on Spotify, YouTube, or Apple Podcasts. And if you have any poems you want to see in a future episode,

email your suggestions to the poetry fix at gmail.com. Join me next week and we'll be reading Emily Dickinson's I Taste a Liquor Never Brewed.