If you’re prone to metallic hyperbole you’d probably call the color of these fallen cherry leaves bronze. If you’re like Crayola you’d probably call it burnt sienna. If Caran d’ache is more your style you’d most likely call it cinnamon. If masculine Sherman-Williams supplies your color vocabulary you might call it tobacco, But if you’re slike me you probably prefer brown. Not that I don’t see the complexity and richness of color here, not that I don’t appreciate a lovely associative word. But because I love the roundness of the word brown. Because to me the color brown is round, not just for the sake of rhyme. It is a color swollen with implications.