Eliza’s Book of Whimsy

book-coverfairy-03My poetic pilgrimage began April 2015, whilst seated beneath a willow’s weeping bough, just to the left of the vegetable patch. I was already an ardent reader and a dilettante writer, but like the unremarkable blackbird that roused me that day, I was a fledgling—a fledgling poet about to take flight.

I watched him, my garrulous friend, as he flitted and fleeted amongst a tangle of bramble close by, and as I sipped hot tea and breathed the sweetly scented spring air, I thought how endearing he was for such an unembellished bird. This set my mind whirring, and in a moment I’d scrawled a little rhyme in his honour—short but undeniably sweet.

Other poems swiftly followed, each and every one a far better verselet than my humble blackbird. Nonetheless, he had given me the nudge I needed, because by then, the fire inside me was vehement and with ‘simple pleasures’ as my stimulus, I proceeded to pen my first opus: a garland of whimsy, loosely hinging upon the many adventures treasured dearly by myself and my family.

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Elizabeth Henry’s poems are quite simply beautiful. Touching and uplifting, they have their own special magic.

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