Hair frosts wicked white
when clouds freeze the amber sun
braids twist in the wind
Last week’s Fraiku was easy to write with temps well below freezing. However the past few nights I’ve slept with the windows open and the sound of rain. We’re in so much trouble…
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 
Your description and picture remind me of Winter, Edgar Winter.
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You’re right! I hadn’t thought about him for years.
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I have a pale, blonde friend who tried to scare me one night when we were roommates at a library conference. I told she looked like Edgar Winter’s paler, whiter sister. Actually she was doing a ghost impersonation with a lot of eerie noises when she mistakenly thought I was asleep.
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Ha!
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Colder than cold water …
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Ice is always colder.
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Great word choice. This sounds like my hometown last week. Luckily we have thawed.
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Thank you, Ali! While the thaw feels good, we’re going to pay for it.
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Winter is in full armour
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There’s no defeating it. We can only hope to outlast it.
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Beautifully written!
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Thank you, Bianca! She’s a good muse.
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My pleasure! 😊
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