In Umbria

Not that we prepared for it, or at first

noticed in the papery rustle

of the cottonwoods our shutters allowed,

or through coffee on the terrace,

in the mist of a garden hose trained on

lavender and roses, and glistening.

Still we are ready-equally in need-

of such quietness to be received.

And virtually to breathe it in the blue

fumaturo rising from the tilth

of vineyards and olive groves, the dreamy

plumes of cypress and whitening grains,

inviting and warranting increases

of thanks-under such circumstances,

to feel a native force, like remembrance,

inquiring for the proper name of praise.

Dear Reader,

Can I be direct with you?

War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.

First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.

But we can’t do it without readers like you.

Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.


Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.

Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.

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If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.

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