More and More

Rain in January in Vermont
just shouldn't dredge
the beauty from the skies
with dark salt and slippery traps.

The pendulum of a fall
an invincible caveat;
bruises and scabbed shins awaiting
on the stone stairs.

Real danger scampers by
distracting us from melancholy winter weight
or a plastered arm after that stumble
you tell no one about.

The klatch down at the corner laundry will talk
and click the buttons on the umbrellas to release us
from all this liquid.

When the dam lets loose
we will rush into the cold
past our neighbors
like we are running from jail
and the guards are banging much to boldly
on the poor slobs
who will never be ready
for more and more sorrow.