SEXTON'S SUNSHINE

The confessional avant garde
have gone like Anne Sextant
on Acheron's rented swan boats
under Boston Common's sunshine,

Chance days of party bacchanals
with vocal exaggerated nights
on Marlborough and Charles
are faded by an awning light,

The lyrical Lowell and Bishop
celebrated at the Esplanade
unfold poems on arty napkins
by blankets on Beacon's boulevard

No longer ice on Frog pond
we skate on memory's friends
yet why do mated song birds
make flights as our descendants.