Poetry

For so far the sun lifts the snow

For so far the sun lifts the snow

For so far the sun lifts the snow.
The cables; the light and whitened eyes,
weeping spine, and tied quite loose
are ribs held in envy for they rattle,

and in their sack they shudder.
Eyes they burn with the sun. Go fast,
go high. For maybe the glades or an
avalanche may be better for the fear.

May be better, for so far the sun lifts
the snow. The cables; cold and hushed
are light are grand. Greater than the
heat of chains and chanting and

somehow heard a sound that comes
from the snow, brittle, basks and falls.
The sack, burlap shakes and the
car in front takes a bow.


Author bio

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By Timothy Percival

Timothy Percival began writing ten years ago while living in Earls Court, London. Since then he’s been occupied with the idea of vignettes, and how some of the most perfect things are the most concise. The past seven years he’s spent as a writer on the south coast, moving there to be closer to the horizon.

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