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.