ON THE CHARLES RIVER

Grass has grown
no wiser. Permit me
to speak just tonight
as an adviser to nature
asking the trembling wind
on my orange kayak
to be less vocal,
exhale to expunge
the cool sailing ship air
as my blowing sax riffs
from a Garland tune
cover my finger tips
with Dizzy notes
sponging tousled kisses
from my chafed lips
provoke a July of laughter
between lonesome children
from a near- by tourist boats
below the visionary sky
not being a late comer here
forgive me, Charles
on this your river
smile with one wave to us
by a chorus of songbirds
to the under handed runners
on sun timed torsos
by cruising bacchanals
in glacial and facial memory
on this canal of a crystal sea
near the Esplanade's trees
where this poet played
by burdocks and jonquils
in a floating anniversary
of a thrilling jazz parade
life motions the currents
along the Atlantic ocean
as a metamorphosis of memory
chills the warm breeze.