By Mackenzie Dysinger

I can see Old Man Winter making his way to my door
but I have no time to ask him in.
Although I can hear the weary trees mourn, 
especially the Birch as their leaves begin to turn 
--I can’t be bothered to listen. 
The sweet summer sun has slowly begun 
to ease into her winter slumber
and in her place as she begins to fade rises another. 

My dear Moon, you’ve found your way home again 
and I’ve missed listening to the stories of where you’ve been. 
I’ve missed whispering my dreams to the night sky
and asking the stars to hold my secrets tight. 
Let the whole world pause and her demands be left to the day 
while I stay awake to celebrate the return of my favorite light; 
the return of my dear Moon to his place in the midnight sky.

Enjoy more of Mackenzie’s poetry with these selections:

Fireweed

Queen

Honest Spruce