“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?