by David D. Nolta.
“May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened.” So prayed St. Paul. You know, the man whose horse became frightened, And then he went blind in the fall. Now that’s what I call a call.
For Joan it was more of a whisper: “Put on pants” Which sent the girl straight to the crisper; On the way, she saved France. A miracle dressed as mischance.
I don’t want to seem teasing or vicious, Nor to doubt, But to me history’s so suspicious, Even more than a shake or a shout I‘m afraid that I need it spelled out.
Though, last night, with some crazed bird recruiting Not far from my bed, I found three spiderlings parachuting Soundlessly onto my head, And I did feel … solicited.