“The birds crow a weeping melody, trees clean of leaves…” crossroads and thieves share a burning resemblance, remembrance of all that have been subjected to part from the unprotected confinements of solitude, alone in thought, mind, and spirit all i can do is call to you. if trees can clean their branches of leaves, and if birds can crow melody’s that vulnerably weep, why do i constantly suppress my God-given reach?