They call this the season of giving.
I ask why

giving, caring, helping others,
requires a season?

He didn’t choose a season
to lose his job, his home,
his family.

She didn’t choose a season
to find herself asking
for change from strangers;
seeking shelter in subways,
wearing threadbare cast-offs,
eating from dumpsters.

Homelessness
doesn’t have a season.
Hunger
doesn’t have a season.
Hopelessness
doesn’t have a season.

Why is it that we choose to wait
until it is the season?

back to top

send comments to info@poetrybay.com

first electronic copyright 2000 poetrybay. 
all rights revert to author