A call for action

I'm going to rally against the street people,
the ones who take a buzz saw
to towering (if leaning) trees.

A limb for a limb, I'd say.

Fighting
against parking tickets
against strict assignments
against those trying to take me out of the pulpit.

I'm going to wave beauty in your face.

Yellow octaves,
and trash that just might be art.

I'm going to drag you into deep alleys,
and show you the pristine magic of streetlights.
Curves and shades.

The power that's in a single, trembling leaf.
How life draining from something can make it seem alive.

Life in tension.

Can't you hear the music?
Flooding through your headphones, your speakers,
the floor,
your skin.

The music might not be a march, but it's marching.
It's a tango.
It's a waltz.
It's a foxtrot.

Each step sending shivers from toes to nose,
Pulling you in.

Raising high a sign,
Protesting the rights of all, the trees.

Praying for deliverance,
in the midst of dancing and tyranny
from those street people.