Rewrite the poem White Birch into a short story.

In front of my window, there is a birch tree. In the cold winter, it seems to be coated with silver frost and covered with snowflakes.

It has hairy branches, and the lace embroidered with snow looks so natural and unrestrained. The clusters of flowers are blooming and the white tassels are picturesque.

In the dim silence, this white birch stands slim and graceful, and in the golden glow, its whole body is like shining snow.

Birch trees roam around, waiting patiently for the late sunrise, just like snow-covered branches. It is the beautiful scenery in front of my window, and it is also decorated with the hometown I miss.