A hedgerow in winter

The tangled structure of the hedgerow, laid bare by winter.  Its branches stretched out to reach the light and pushed sideways by the wind; interwoven with long fingers of bramble and ivy.  A nest huddled in its depths, a secret unveiled.  I wonder where its inhabitants are now?  Perhaps near here perusing the branches for insects or may be far away swooping in warm blue skies.

As I walked quietly, I heard a song coming from a blackthorn bush.  I stopped and met the eyes of a red wing; its distinguishing red blaze alongside a speckled chest warmed by a yellow glow. 

When the rain pours and the wind howls, winter can be miserable, but year after year I remind myself what a special place the winter landscape can be.  I don't think I have felt this ever more so than this year.