Read Poem: A New Season, by Melba Christie

For some unexplained reason
clergy, pastors, preachers and rabbis
created a whole new season

No explanation would suffice
everyone wondered on whose advice
this decision was made

We can only hope
something good emerges
like the sun does from behind the clouds
or like when an opus is born
Some consider this whole thing a phenomenon
perhaps even an omen
Did Nostradamus forewarn us?
A prophecy perhaps
of what we all knew would happen?
“Peace is not a season.” someone said.
It is or should be a way of life.
A season free of strife,
Can it possibly be true?
It’s up to me and it’s up to you.