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William Stafford - An Oregon Message
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When we first moved here, pulled 
the trees in around us, curled 
our backs to the wind, no one 
had ever hit the moon—no one. 
Now our trees are safer than the stars, 
and only other people`s neglect 
is our precious and abiding shell, 
pierced by meteors, radar, and the telephone. 


From our snug place we shout 
religiously for attention, in order to hide: 
only silence or evasion will bring 
dangerous notice, the hovering hawk 
of the state, or the sudden quiet stare 
and fatal estimate of an alerted neighbor. 


This message we smuggle out in 
its plain cover, to be opened 
quietly: Friends everywhere— 
we are alive! Those moon rockets 
have missed millions of secret 
places! Best wishes. 


Burn this.
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