A Wintry Morning

I was looking at a hedge

Outside my bedroom window.
Its dull-green needles coated in bright orange.
An accumulation of snow lays on its summit.
Dried and deflated,
Like an old muffin top.

A tree stands tall and erect in the background.
Its curved branches
Shaped like scythes
Looming over the hedge.
Cloaked in white,
The birch has already taken its prize.
Three branches stem
From the trunk of the tree,
Counting the years gone by.
Forcing me to remember.

A metal-wire fence surrounds the hedge,
Trying to trap the memories.
Old, grayed wood stakes
Attempt to hold it all together.
Blue birds fly by,
Signaling the start of
Morning.
I wish you were still here.