Trees always have to go out with a bang, don't they explosions of bursting color freeze-framed fireworks of fall bursting and cascading, leaving ashes and hot coals to cool in soft grass
...I used bursting twice, didn't I? alright, let me go open up my thesaurus... blast? pop? rupture? just replace it with one of those and call it good. Back to the poem:
my popped-collar peacoat straightens my back gotta match my posture to the pompous portrait black wool on an over-scratched scratch paper might as well just pick it all off allow the color some room to expand (I don't even own a peacoat, I just like the metaphor and imagery)
you could set the sentinel alight for the same effect a more smokey atmosphere, sure, but the color would be a little brighter and I'd have the mushroom of smoke to match my coat
I've substituted my earbuds with the crunch crunch crunch of leaves crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch –––– shoot that one looked good but it just flattened crunch crunch crunch invariable sound back to my Beats by Dr. Dre
The arrow of geese points south ... that's really all I have to say about that some sort of metaphor about flapping my arms and following them? I like jacket weather though better stay grounded hands in pockets; arms in long sleeves
insert some connection to death to match nature's descent into winter
Gosh, this season is too good to stand for something so sad let's go jump off the roof into a pile of leaves drink hot soup and get cuffed watch steam and frost paint picturesque mornings read in a dogpile of blankets Winter may be coming but so is spring ya goof get off your melancholic horsey
I don't even own a peacoat :/ feeling irreverent but poetic...