A poem that keeps running through my head

This poem, by Gerard Manley Hopkins, keeps running through my head. It’s a beautiful poem for a Sunday in June. Enjoy!

God’s Grandeur
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.   
  It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;   
  It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil   
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?   
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;          
  And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;   
  And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil   
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.   
 
And for all this, nature is never spent;   
  There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;          
And though the last lights off the black West went   
  Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—   
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent   
  World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

High winds shake the branches of my tree of dreams

Annette Marie Hyder

My dreams flutter like leaves in the wind of night
flutter on a tree of dreams with whispering branches
that murmur in the storm.

The tree top touches the heavens.
Its roots snake down and down
while the lightning-forked sky shows
a slow wheeling shadow of wings
that brush against my senses.

My thoughts dance along the tree’s branches
birds just waiting for their turn
to launch aloft and free fall
with a parachute of sleep strapped to their backs
they don’t even need their pinions.