Breaking Up With the Wind

Summer wind hold my hand,
grasp it, rub it gentle  in the  sun
honeyed soothing mother’s touch. 

Hide the coughing chimneys up ahead,
the night in the strut of yellow cat eyes,
amber streetlights yielding to blue tv glows.

Coming cold blows my hands into jacket tight.
The star I follow now hidden,  dark,
lost in the arguing noise outside and in.