The Call

by Pamela C. Johnson

Startling me,

he yelled with glee;

then,

like a beacon light,

waved the envelope

in his hand

above his head.

“It’s here!” he said;

then grinned at me

and skipped a jig.

He never told

just where it called

but turned,

then jumped the steps

and slammed the door.

It didn’t matter.

It was the Lord who spoke.

I smiled

from across the street

at the empty porch.