An essay, three short stories, and a poem

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Does there come a day in every man's life when he looks around and says to himself, "I've got to weed out some of these owls"?
--From "Understanding Owls," a reflection by David Sedaris, The New Yorker (October 22, 2012), pp. 40-43.  (In a different form, this piece was later reprinted in Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls.)

Driving across the Utah desert on I-70, James hit a butterfly with his car.
--From "Mayfly," a short story by Kevin Canty, The New Yorker (January 28, 2013), pp. 64-69.

It was at the tube station that he met the Angolans who would arrange his marriage, exactly two years and three days after he had arrived in England; he kept count.
--From "Checking Out," a short story by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, The New Yorker (March 18, 2013), pp. 66-73.

I was grown up now, married, with a family of my own, but still the Ormsons wanted to see me, just like always. 
--From "Here's a Little Something to Remember Me By," a short story by Dan Chaon, first published in Other Voices and reprinted in his story collection Among the Missing (Ballantine/Random House, 2001), p. 160-186.

The dove brought news
of the end of the flood, an olive leaf
in her mouth, like a man holding a letter . . .  
--From "The Dove," a poem by Yehuda Amichai, translated from the Hebrew by Bernard Horn, The New Yorker (March 18, 2013), p. 63.