I want a modern poem about willow.

There is a birch tree in front of my window, which seems to be covered with silver frost and snowflakes.

Furry branches, snow embroidered lace, strings of blooming flowers. White tassels are picturesque.

In the hazy silence, birch trees stand tall, and crystal snowflakes shine in the golden glow.

A belated morning glow appeared around the birch tree. It gives the snow-covered branches a layer of silver luster.