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Yesterday
stealing from the sun
dandelions
lit the shaded path
briefly. Now they’re gone.

Hurry through
faded meadows while
light still holds.
Days grow shorter; how
quickly evening comes.

Stirred to rise
by a falling foot,
feathered seeds
graceful on the breeze
drift towards the dawn.

00 Days
00 Hours
00 Minutes
00 Seconds
Dear Reader,

Time is short, so I’ll be direct: FIRST THINGS needs you. And we need you by December 31 at 11:59 p.m., when the clock will strike zero. Give now at supportfirstthings.com.

First Things does not hesitate to call out what is bad. Today, there is much to call out. Yet our editors, authors, and readers like you share a greater purpose. And we are guided by a deeper, more enduring hope.

Your gift of $50, $100, or even $250 or more will bring this message of hope to many more people in the new year.

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