Lone Mummer Approaching

Twelfth night, dead of winter. Across the reach
a stranger crosses, illuminating
his path with a dim pentacle of flame.

For a moment the wind flings back his veil;
but we cannot make out his face, shadowed
in the blackness, like an unnamed secret.

In the houses beside ours, the lamps are
darkened, the shutters closed, the curtains drawn
against this portentous visitation.

Midwinter stranger, approaching with a
measured stride, oblivious to the night,
to all except your studied resolution:

Pass on, let your shadow darken other
doors, spare this heart your cold epiphany.


  1. Inspired by a David Blackwood etching of a lone mummer in moonlight, approaching a town.

    Mummers were actors in traditional folk plays, originally from England. In Eastern Canada groups used to go house-to-house in the deep winter, much like carolers. A lone mummer was a much rarer affair.

    Short link - http://bit.ly/s4lmummer

  2. Mysterious and intriguing

  3. Your words always bring a clear image to mind with the first few lines...and a chill up the spine with this one :)

  4. Love the form, attracted to the subject matter. You are gifted.

  5. Love the last 2 lines.

    I haven't been on Twitter for awhile. Glad to see you have been.

  6. Thanks so much for the kind words!

    Twitter has been good to me, I placed #1 in worldwide voting for the Best Poetry on Twitter; and I recently was named to a Top 100 Twitterers in the Book World list.

    My poetry also seems to be gaining readership in Facebook, so it's all good!


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