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I
Wolves howl, wonderfully if eerily, as winds -
Under the weather when weather is artic
One least expects this clime in the tropics
His tin roof resists, rattles, reverberates 
Wrapping a cloak more tightly, he falls to his knees
The spiders, sparrows, and starlings cohabiting hear, "LORD, please -
Save my roof. I can't afford to lose mine." By degrees
The winds cease; the man remains on his knees
For the rain is heard in sleets, sheets of water
Welcome for fauna and flora ... do they feel an aura?
A man who once knew God as Friend, had then turned -
Like Grandfather in Spyri's Heidi story, on everyone
Gone up on the mountain, monk-like, beyond year 1
Rarely came down among people and provision
Surviving all kinds of weather with few books and Bible
A small radio, and no other luxuries, but a kettle
That whistled its witness: weathering heights again!
Among eagles and kites (and a beloved peregrine)

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