French Spring

Ahh . . . don’t you hear
loud and clear
arriving on our shores
carried by the winds
the pounding of pots
and skillets
the beat of drums
so deafening
that politicians
are muted

don’t you hear
the French Revolutionary Spring −
listen . . .

the people’s orchestra
is a wondrous weapon

the lids
of saucepans
become cymbals

is taking The Threepenny Opera
of knives and forks
so hurry to enjoy

Ahh . . . don’t you hear
from wide open windows
and a tale of many reverberating cities
so many angry kitchens
to the tempo
of a whole people
saying NO 

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