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

They just keep gnawing on my bones
They're glassy eyed they look like drons
With a persistent chewing grinding away
It goes on all night and day
Teeth scraping on bone the sounds unnerving
They think my bones they are deserving
They just keep gnawing, and bitting through
But this is nothing very new
Teeth on bone, crunch crunch, crunch
Gnawing on me again for lunch

Summertime hot, bright yellow star blazing. Day after day suns rays relentless.
Heatwave in full swing, no rain in site.
Bright blue up above, no clouds in the view.
Everything drying up turning brown and crunchy.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
Crunch, crunch goes the brown crunchy grass as I walk.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.