In the extravagant late December dark
I listen to rain fall and wish it were snow.
The fan on my computer whirs up to meet
my tinnitus when I should be using my pen.
Seems like less peace than usual these holidays
but I resolve not to take it personally.
The sirens I hear at night are only ambulances
and fire trucks, not warnings of drones or missiles.
At least I have unbroken windows
although there isn’t any snow.
(For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt and Living Poetry’s Monday Poetry Prompt.)
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
These are the days of miracle and wonder…
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One can hope…
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Felt this one, Bart. Your poem put things into perspective. 🙏🏻
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Thank you, Michele. So glad this worked for you.
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You’re welcome. I’ve been annoyed by people shooting off fireworks in the middle of the night… you’ve helped me to reframe that. 🙏🏻
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You’re welcome. Always glad to help.
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I was thinking along similar lines. It’s blowing a hoolie here in Orkney – but – the howling and slashing are wind and rain – not missiles.
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PS – Will be in m’blog tomorrow.
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Many thanks for the publicity.
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You’re welcome…. http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16648
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Love this relatable poem, Bart! <3 Happy 2024!
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Thank you, Cheryl. Happy New Year to you too!
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Well done., Poignant and melancholy
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Thank you, JM. It’s been one of those years.
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