I never thought I would have a favorite poet, but I do. William Carlos Williams’ Stillness:

Heavy white rooves
of Rutherford
sloping west and east
under the fast darkening sky:What have I to say to you
that you may whisper it to them
in the night?Round you
is a great smouldering distance
on all sides
that engulfs you
in utter loneliness.Lean above their beds tonight
snow covered rooves;
listen;
feel them stirring warmly within
and say — nothing.