 Sensing the Night by Bob Nimmo Savouring the soft pickling of day’s end, the heaviness of time descend; sun sliding seaward, pallid orb a fickle friend. Hearing the moan a flickering call time to extend. Feeling our short sally down the customary alley; where moist veils kiss a rugged rocky wall and lost footsteps of sunlit seconds fall echoing. Watching her sibilant slipping through garish glades, stretching sylvanly: our plum. “Come all, Come one!” “No... no! Not here!” “Where, where, my dear?” “A place delicious, near where the robin bleeds, the cock crows and deadly nightshade births and grows. Where Hecate knits: a place that fits.” Smelling fresh fecundity, the bitter belt of souring milk and brackish black of bubbling blood. Eventually found spread autumnally as if some ruddy rascals had sipped their wine indolently, while we pattered on predictably. Bob Nimmo has had poetry and short stories published in Britain, Singapore, Australia and New Zealand and his poetry has been short-listed in international competitions. He has also written the book, lyrics and music for six musical comedies and had a novel published. 
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