It's 70 degrees today

I'm waiting for office hours at the moment, and decided to write a poem while I waited.

Vernal November

A warm hand protecting a cold one
From the thaw. Calm breath and real water
Dissolve the leaves into soft pillows.
Nestled like a sock under bed sheets:
Forgotten, yet safe.
Converged browns, awoken from decay
To have one look back
And pause,
Take a second last breath.

Red is good for stitching,
For the sunset,
For the grass,
For the asphalt.
The bravery in sleeping.