The Angels Did Say

Ah, big bustle of Auld Manhattoe, try to get a bite of lunch, get trampled by the crowds, frantic holiday shopping and tourists arriving in hordes, they all end up in Midtown to dismay of working stiffs trying to stretch two hours of errands into one, oh there's baby carriages and backpacks, big Rockefeller Christmas tree drawing crowds like piney green magnet, energy sky high, sidewalk trees all lit up with lights twisted over branch and trunk, tarted up like stationary streetwalkers to provide festive evening glow.

In mighty skyscrapers maintenance men have lugged out huge crates of decorations, put up hundreds of shimmering golden wreathes and highly ornamented trees. I walk through marble halls bemused at the twinkle, langorous amid the bustle, pondering instead the stillness of an evening, toasting marshmallows over an open fire, burbling creek sparkling under full moon light, a humble woodcutter, and, well, a goat.