A Thursday Morning in Winter

The cars on my street were spray-painted white
by that famous vandal, Jack Frost. The hungover sun
offers no warmth. I should remove the crystalline dew
from my windshield but I must’ve walked widdershins
around the bar— lost my scraper and glove.

This credit card won’t be doing me any more good,
so I could see how it fares against the ice
but I don’t have anywhere important to go today.

Maybe it’ll melt tomorrow.


(For two prompts: frost and widdershins.)

 

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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11 Responses to A Thursday Morning in Winter

  1. ivor20 says:

    Jack the vandals frozen messages
    are just temporary pieces of cool street-art

    Liked by 2 people

  2. JeanMarie says:

    This is a fun one B. You need some company to help you melt. :)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh I love that you call your cat, Moriarty! I also love the word “widdershins” and the way you have used it. Nice work, Bart. ❌❤👩‍🦰👍

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Ali Grimshaw says:

    Thanks for introducing me to this word, widdershins. It is a new one to me.

    Liked by 2 people

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