Jesse Breite

Writing poetry has always been about discovering a greater awareness of my surroundings, and I have repeatedly turned to the readily available, tactile, and subtle natural phenomena just outside my window. In an age of cyber-urgency, I aspire to the steadfast model of trees, the easy life cycle of plant life, and even the critters which have an admirable sense of restraint and focus.

“The Hosta” is a yard-work poem. In the labor of cleaning up the yard, I found myself witness to the resilience and return of the hosta’s bloom. It was a miraculous, muddy, and image-rich experience. As I began trying to write this discovery, I found myself researching the origins and history of the hosta. The result was this gritty, historical, spring poem.

“In Spring” is one of my annual spring poems. I am always surprised by the beauty of spring, and I hoped to capture some of the seasonal swell–the bloom of leaves and flowers and all the emotions that visit when spring returns. I use repetition and iteration to express a language for spring’s lusciousness.

“Ranunculus Repens” is a poem that came from running in the mountains. When I lived in Asheville, I had a route through the woods, and the buttercups took over the meadows in the spring. I did a little research and found the flowers morphing into yellow eyes and toads. The plants had a monstrous, imperial quality that was both spellbinding and haunting. My poem references Heaney’s big, blunt frogs in “Death of a Naturalist.” These buttercups, in contrast, were small and myriad yet still threatening.