Caroling

I find myself in a snowglobe
except it is warm
and what swirls is goose down.
The bells ring randomly
like someone dropping silver nails.
Everything through
the convex glass
seems gigantic, closer than real.
A big pink hand reaches out
and picks me up.
A shake, and I float weightless
as a star's death.
This is not liquid
but a lack of garvity.
I imagine I am convoluted.
Saved by the boot.