New City

Winter strains toward spring.
A bird is singing in a leafless tree.
The river gleams, the sidewalks glint with ice
or with a hint of possibility.
A blade of sun bisects the afternoon
street. In such a slippery spot I fell,
righted myself, stood up,
and found myself no longer in the winter
but in a city and a season slyly
disguised as ordinary, but transfigured.
The grime of dailiness was all rinsed clean.
In a leafless tree a bird was singing.

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.

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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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