First Things RSS Feed - Mark Jarman https://www.firstthings.com/author/mark-jarman en-us Copyright 2025 First Things. All Rights Reserved. ft@firstthings.com (The Editors) ft@firstthings.com (The Editors) Mon, 20 Jan 2025 16:52:09 -0500 https://d2201k5v4hmrsv.cloudfront.net/img/favicon-196.png First Things RSS Feed Image https://www.firstthings.com/rss/author/mark-jarman 60 Short Measure https://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/06/short-measure https://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/06/short-measure Tue, 01 Jun 2010 00:00:00 -0400 The hummingbird has lingered.
A rhododendron blooms.
But each night autumn’s chilly dreams
Stalk through our bedrooms.

The sky is gray and blank,
Then eloquent with sun.
The mood keeps shifting on the street
From “Do Not Walk!” to “Run!”

It’s lonely as the planet
Passes the summer on.
Is there a place in outer space
To see where it has gone?

The leaves that mask the distance
Beyond the city’s trees
Have felt the change of heartwood that
Will bring them to our knees.

The baby in her crib
Watches the aspens quake.
We watch her as she watches them
And know our hearts will break.

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]]> Drinking Stars https://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/03/drinking-stars https://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/03/drinking-stars Mon, 01 Mar 2010 00:00:00 -0500 Down in the soul’s wine cellars
The casks of virtue brood.
They’re aging through the centuries,
Like deep Alaskan crude.

The casks of sin, however,
Are daily tapped and flow,
Filling carafes, beakers, and jugs,
Giving each face a glow.

It’s quite a ways below ground,
The soul’s wine cellars dwell.
The casks of sin and virtue stand
So close, it’s hard to tell

Which, when you tap its fullness,
Comes spurting an arcing stream
Into a thimble or a cup,
Into this world or a dream.

But when he takes a sip,
God, the sommelier,
Knows at once the vintage broached
And tosses it away.

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]]> Drinking Stars https://www.firstthings.com/article/2008/05/002-drinking-stars https://www.firstthings.com/article/2008/05/002-drinking-stars Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 -0400 Down in the soul’s wine cellars
The casks of virtue brood.
They’re aging through the centuries,
Like deep Alaskan crude.

The casks of sin, however,
Are daily tapped and flow,
Filling carafes, beakers, and jugs,
Giving each face a glow.

It’s quite a ways below ground,
The soul’s wine cellars dwell.
The casks of sin and virtue stand
So close, it’s hard to tell

Which, when you tap its fullness,
Comes spurting an arcing stream
Into a thimble or a cup,
Into this world or a dream.

But when he takes a sip,
God, the sommelier,
Knows at once the vintage broached
And tosses it away.

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]]> Realism https://www.firstthings.com/article/2005/05/realism https://www.firstthings.com/article/2005/05/realism Sun, 01 May 2005 00:00:00 -0400 The world that welcomed the divorce
Of word and thing is now outmoded.
The two are one again. The world
Of their new marriage has exploded.
And in the aftermath we watch
As brilliant particles of truth,
Like stars that tell us where we are,
Bring our gaze back down to earth.

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]]> Fox Days https://www.firstthings.com/article/1990/05/fox-days https://www.firstthings.com/article/1990/05/fox-days Tue, 01 May 1990 00:00:00 -0400 Dull, restless mornings, crawling with hungers—
To have something to do and to have done it.
Blackbirds, treading the rubbery rowan branches.
Sucking down the berries like juju beads.
Walkers heading for work, pointing like windsocks.
The indifferent trees around them, letting their leaves go.
The whining child who stayed up late and won’t rise.
Manipulative, obstreperous, treading the nerves.
And the overcast as interesting as dust.

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