LEAVES WITH MOON --> GOES AWAY WITH HIS PANTS LOWERED

The melody evoked by the sight of bare trees just before winter is an uncomplicated one; translating that melody back into an image yields a cat staring through a window. It's amazing that I'm writing a poem, and this amazement is expressed by the remarkable details that I see, which vanish while this poem does not.

The backbone looks like a cowboy. Either that, or like a broken boat; the vertebrae look like they're missing pieces. And now the segments remind me of the separate words that make up speech -- this in turn echoes that uncomplicated melody the trees suggested to me. It may hurt my thumbs a little to massage it, but so what.

I've used the words thin and think; notice how the vowel color of i changes with that extra consonant? I find I can concentrate better when I let my eyes rest on something chaotic, a bush, for example. Breathing deeply helps too. I'm staring at a tree in moonlight, and when I focus on the moon the leaves seem both to get smaller and to retreat from the light. The wind is making a lonesome sound out there.

(paraphrase of p. 31 of Clark Coolidge's Solution Passage, per JM)