By Fr Gerard Garrigan

On a lovely Sunday evening in spring, our monks were enjoying our outdoor recreation period just having sung vespers and as we were awaiting dinner. As we were conversing on our patio outside the monastery refectory, numerous maple seeds began to descend twirling in their glorious helicopter-like flight.

Our Abbot Gregory Mohrman, OSB and I delighted in nature’s splendid show. The experience left me musing on how my poetic abilities were so woefully inadequate to describe this wonderful natural display as only the master Hopkins could.

Where is Hopkins when we need him?

Helicopter seeds all falling in their millions

Twirling angels descending in their many minions

Launched by Him above all to be lauded

Where is Hopkins when we need him

To capture the rapture in these God-sent tiny, whirling things?

He who in his mystic musings saw the Creator in His creatures

As no one ever did before nor ever, ever will once more

He who was nothing, nothing if not singular

And did so with words that sing, that spring

As no one had, or ever will, from printed page

“Gold-vermillion”, “pied”, “brinded”, “stipple”, “wimpling”

And other words so delicious, so, so delectable

Where is Hopkins when we need him?

Yes, where is Hopkins when we need him?