'Twas the night before the rate hike, and all through the Fed, Not a creature was stirring, not even its head. The interest rate targets were set with great care, In hopes that the economy soon would repair.

The chair, Jerome Powell, was nestled in bed, While visions of growth danced in his head. And the economists in their suits, and the bankers so bright, Were hashing out numbers till late into the night.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter, Powell sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a luster of midday to objects below. When, what to Powell's wondering eyes should appear, But a group of stock traders, full of optimism, and cheer.

They cheered and they shouted and called out his name, Excited for the rate hike, and the market's gain. Powell smiled and went down, to join in on the fun, And spoke of the future, and the economy to come.

"The rate hike," he said, "is a sign of progress, A step towards growth, and financial success. So have no fear, my dear friends, and rest easy tonight, For the future looks bright, and everything's just right."

And with a nod, he said goodnight, and retired to bed, His mission complete, the future inspired ahead. The stock traders dispersed, with a smile on their faces, And Powell lay back down, with visions of growth and graces.