It was the Midwinter Jicker,in Spades then in Jacks
Carelessly careening
with us in its path
Brick ice cold buildings,
Victorian floorboards
Its tenants and walkers,
they all had been forewarned
Generations they gathered,
forted in an oasis
the big city shoulders
the young Archimedes
Our spiritual yogis,
Believers and psalmists
Dreamers and healers,
oldest and youngest
But the Jicker, it rolled on, depressing, tormenting,
Then it blew the lights out in a great soul undressing
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