Leaf-laden lately, beech limbs once reached
the ground, swaying. Lightened now, choreic, bare,
they twitch. An abandoned wasp nest
scuds across the yard. The nest is dashed
against the garden shed and drops to rest
among discarded flowerpots, each smashed
to shards so long ago the sun has bleached
them gray. It totters, then lodges there,
gray, too, and trapped among the shards. Held fast
and peeled, its catacombed, translucent skin
is flung away in layers, drifting like ash,
catching on bark, raised roots, spent tufts of grass
until the labyrinth within?
floats ply by tight-wound ply away at last.
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.
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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