It’s not every day you find a debut collection of poetry by an eighty-three year old poet. But Virginia Hamilton Adair refused to publish her first book any earlier. As it happens, Ants on the Melon was worth the wait and received much acclaim.
Adair has lived a full life, and allowed herself the time and distance to reflect fully on both exterior and interior themes. Each poem has been permitted the time to reach its full ripeness, and Adair’s attention to craft with her subjects is evident.
Adair’s life was profoundly affected by her husband’s suicide in 1968, but her poems exhibit none of the “poor me” therapy type poetry tossed off by many poets who seek to write too soon about devastating tragedies. Adair’s poem "The Ruin" is an example of the importance of time and distance in giving perspective to a tragic loss:
The flowers that ringed the tower are crushed and blind,
The warm quicksilver look to blankness turned,
That enormous book of wise, compassionate mind
Slammed shut: bones, rags, and papers to be burned.
Adair’s nature poetry transcends mere description to provide a unique view that avoids a heavy hand. "Godstone" deftly elevates a rock from its meek status to a spiritual symbol:
The sun plays shadowgames
with its heights and angles.
Honor it, touch it with awe.
Kneeling beside it explore
its silent everness.
Empty yourself into its form
which has been a star
and can be dust far blown
and is today this stone.
Adair is truly a gifted writer who proves that an accomplished poet is not simply one who has scores of publication credits, awards or grants, but a writer who focuses on their art and spends the time it takes to “get it right” even if it means decades without “public recognition.” I am just glad Adair did not wait too long to share her gift with the world. Adair passed away in 2004 after publishing three poetry collections.
158 pgs.
