View from the Veranda, Edgartown
This veranda is shrouded in hawthorn.
The hanging calibrachoa resists October,
Sends out tendrils and purple blossoms.
A 60ish couple strolls for the harbor holding hands.
The beetlebung on the corner blushes.
Blue buses carry silhouettes east on Main Street.
The bell in the Old Whaling Church chimes noon.
Leaves spin, gather like snow drifts on landings.
Homes are ivory Greek Revival with forest green
Shutters and awnings. Entries sport columns, gables,
Pilasters, friezes running above doorways.
White picket fences frame the block.
A silver woman in black dress
Pumps calves over red-bricked sidewalk.
The wind kicks from the north, blowing in
The meaty smell of dogwood. I sense a place
Of rocking chairs, pecan pies, an emerald lake,
Somewhere lost and long forgotten.
Author: Kirby Wright Visit Kirby's Website -
Email Kirby Kirby Wright was born and raised in Honolulu, Hawaii. He is a graduate of Punahou School in Honolulu and the University of California at San Diego. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Wright has been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and is a past recipient of the Jodi Stutz Memorial Prize in Poetry, the Ann Fields Poetry Prize, the Academy of American Poets Award, the Robert Browning Award for Dramatic Monologue, and Arts Council Silicon Valley Fellowships in Poetry and The Novel. BEFORE THE CITY, his first poetry collection, took First Place at the 2003 San Diego Book Awards. Wright is also the author of the companion novels PUNAHOU BLUES and MOLOKA’I NUI AHINA, both set in Hawaii. He was a Visiting Fellow at the 2009 International Writers Conference in Hong Kong, where he represented the Pacific Rim region of Hawaii. He was also a Visiting Writer at the 2010 Martha’s Vineyard Residency in Edgartown, Mass., and the 2011 Artist in Residence at Milkwood International, Czech Republic. His futuristic novel THE END, MY FRIEND is forthcoming in 2013.
1 comment
Justen Ahren says:
Jul 11, 2012
I live here in Edgartown, and the poet’s got it down; takes me flash forwarding into October. This is where John Belushi is buried. I wish there was more about the harbor, but we’re on that veranda so that’s cool.