‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in Charleston

‘Twas the night before Christmas in Charleston and all through the streets, not a rickshaw was wheeling, not even an Uber beep
King Street was snoozing and Market Street a whisper
Not a skater was skating, not even a hipster sipping a PBR

The lights of the Marion Square Tree illuminated to the stars as the squirrels nestled under tree sharing acorns and glee
The pirate ghosts of White Point Garden hope this is the year Santa will be give them scissors so they may cut their noose and be free

The bells of St. Michaels guide the sleigh through the moonlight
St. Philips and Unitarian join in
The holy city, strong in spirit, sing in prayer and rejoice on another wonderful year

Oh Holy Night, from Cistern to East Bay, light our hearts with this Southern fire
From Sullivan’s to Folly, the waves dance to the music of the season
The angels perch high above the Cooper River Bridge waving and dancing to the sailboats ahead

Now we lay our heads to rest, but not without a special gift for St. Nick
A bowl of Shrimp and Grits and a craft pint or Chicken and waffles instead

In the deep silence of the night, we can hear the sounds of bells chime in our dreams while the deep rugged voice of Santa call out, “on Dasher, Prancer, Dewberry and Spector.  On Fig, on Husk, On Oak, On Ordinary.”
Or perhaps our dreams play games in our heads as we visualize a year to be thankful

A Merry Christmas to you Charleston and to all a good night

 

 

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