The Hedge Outside My Window Poem by Paul Reed

The hedge outside my window
Is overgrown and unwieldy
It is rocked by the wind
And staggers like a drunk;

It has fresh tips, poking
Above a pre-clipped line
Like uneven mountain peaks in a range
How strange;

Alternately it is dark and cavernous,
Foreboding and casting shadows,
Then, lit by the sun,
A friendly place with glorious blossom;

The little birds flit in and out
And sometimes sway crazily atop
To them it is a home
How they must tremble with the shaking;

But, after the storm
They rejoice from within it's branches
And the single notes, oft repeated
Are balm to the soul.