Automatic Age

12
T
he
a u t o m a t ic
A
ge
The A utom atic Age
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A ll
M e r r y C h r is tm a s
Heavy, leaden skies overhead spit tiny
flakes o f white. The north wind in fury drives them stinging^
against our faces. People hurry along the cold, gray streets and
shiver in the chilling blasts. Things seem blue and melancholy*
That was yesterday.
Today the flakes of snow are bigger, whiter. The skies are
bright for all the winding, curling smoke from red brick chimneys*
The ground and streets are no longer gray and lifeless, but wear »
beautiful cloak of sparkling white. Faces that seemed pinched and
blue with cold are now lit with a rosy glow and a smile. People
that huddled with up-turned collars now seem cheerful and ani"
mated. The eyes of strangers meet— they smile and are friends-
Something has transformed a cold, colorless, work-a-day world
into a friendly, happen haven. The heart seems to soften and to
swell and to beat faster. W e sigh— the whole world understands.
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