Honest Spruce
A Poem By Mackenzie Dysinger
If one is going out for tea to talk about the sweeter things,
I recommend finding an aspen.
And if you’re looking for romantic daydreams and lofty discussions on heartbreaking poetry
then the base of a young birch tree (with a quaint cup of Earl Grey tea)
may satisfy your notions.
But if you’re looking for honesty
You will need the spruce tree
along with a cup of piping hot coffee
--black, no sugar and a touch of snow.
That, as everyone knows, is the way to the heart of a spruce tree.
I sat down and handed him his mug
which he proceeded to tell me would not be enough
and that I was late
and it was cold
and on, and on his grumpiness goes.
While yes it’s true,
spruce are honest to a T
they don’t make for pleasant company
seeing as they lack any empathy
and that’s often why they grow so lonely.
Few can stand the blatant honesty spouting from such an ugly thing
that they will spend their whole lives avoiding
the desire knit in their bones
that longs to sit and ponder
the reality and truthful grumblings
of an old crooked spruce tree
in much need of a patient soul
to bring a cup of coffee.