S late tile has gone missing from the roof above Ramon’s bed blown off in the last storm of the winter. Yesterday a bird ducked through the hole at dawn flapped wildly around waking up the other novices. Brother Francis was pleased; everyone was on time for morning mass.
Now Ramon lies in his narrow cot watching as the silvery moon filters through and forms a puddle of light on his gray wool blanket. Sleep is far away.
But then it is many nights since he has slept soundly.
He has heard that farmers lie awake and make an inventory of their livestock: How many sheep? How many lambs? How many hens producing how many eggs?
