I can snap them for the porch. Mocking me, while the family hauls away my trees one twig at a time.

 

"Cocked in that land tactile as leaves

wild things wait crouched in those valleys

west of your city outside your lives

in the ultimate wind, the whole land's wave. 

Come west and see; touch these leaves." 

from Midwest

by William Stafford

If you took an Uber in Washington, D.C., a couple of years ago, there was a chance your driver was one of the greatest living Uyghur poets.

 

Let there be a man who lived through the winter
Let him fill his inner pocket with rain
and find a farmer
sowing his fields with wind seeds
and let him say to the farmer: “Here I am.”

Three Poems by Tahir Hamut Izgil

https://www.asymptotejournal.com/poetry/tahir-hamut-three-poems/

Atlantic article.

https://www.theatlantic.com/the-uyghur-chronicles/

Red-Necked Grebe by the grid road.

Above us, stars. 

Beneath us, constellations.

Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies

like a snowflake falling on water.

Flying by Night

Ted Kooser

link to the full poem here,

https://www.tedkooser.net/excerpts/flyingAtNight.html

On the way home from town

                                                   

(from) Deer Stolen by William Stafford

Deer have stood around our house

at night so still nobody knew,

and waited with ears baling air.

I hunt the still deer everywhere,