Transcendent Spring


April and May are two of my favorite months of the year. Warmth rules the day, and the nights blanket us in coolness perfect for snuggling under covers. Honeysuckle perfume graces the senses as it wafts in through open windows, and the world feels new and fresh. Potent possibilities abound in the spring energy. The sunlight feels like liquid warmth spreading across my skin. What a wonder is this Earth on such days as these!

It’s a time of great inspiration for someone with an ear for nature’s song and an inclination to share it. So here’s a poem for the spring.

I know nothing more transcendent on Mother Earth
Than this glorious, resplendent springtime rebirth.
The wind carries freely the hum of honey bees,
And scents of sweet blossoms travel on every breeze.
Caressing my senses with the sun’s brilliant rays,
Spring dissolves all pretenses from bleak winter days
And transports my psyche to a realm of pure light,
Lifting me brightly into fantasies of flight.
Mother Earth strums her chords in my favorite song
That hums into my consciousness all the day long:
“I am the wind, the water, the sunlight, the trees;
“I am,” she sings to me, “the life in all of these.”
Her lyrics and her tune I shall forever hear
And on this fair afternoon hold them ever dear.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson

Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available as an e-book on

Ode to Honeysuckle

honeysuckle1Even on a rainy day, it’s easy to find beauty in nature. Sitting outside for a while under these rain-laden skies, the honeysuckle reminded me of so often awakening to their scent in the springs and summers of my childhood and adolescence. I hope you enjoy my “Ode to Honeysuckle.”

Still glistening from spring rains,
Your scent a sweet refrain
That beckons my soul to dream
Of dewdrops and sunbeams.
Your fragrance fills my senses,
Seeps past my defenses,
An echo from long ago
Of summer morning’s glow—
Asleep with open windows
In a peaceful repose
Till lingering yellow rays
Wakened me to the day.

© 2016 L. D. Henderson
Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available as an e-book on; here’s the link:

Purple Raindrops


When I took this photo of the wisteria hanging in the woods, I thought they looked rather like violet raindrops. I knew that I would write a poem to accompany them at some point. I only wish it hadn’t been prompted by the occasion of the death of a musical genius and beautiful soul that I have long admired. I have been a fan of Prince since the early 1980s and will continue to treasure his brilliant music  for all my days. This one is for him and for all who loved him….

Purple Raindrops

Wisteria blossoms purple raindrops—
Those cascading ethereal blooms
Hang luxuriantly in the forest
Emanating their fragrant perfume.

On any other day they would call me
To wander in silent reverie,
But today I won’t accede to their plea;
I’ll sit here shaded by this poplar tree.

Rapt and awed, I’ll listen to your music
And ever amazing silken voice
That has transported me so many times—
Tunes that invite my heart to rejoice.

I’ll thank you for a thousand perfect rhymes,
For the songs that caused my soul to sing,
And pray you fly home to a realm sublime
To serenade the eternal spring.

© 2016 L. D. Henderson

To the Nymphs of the Forest, the Field, the Stream, the Sea


Today I wanted to share a poem I wrote several years ago for a friend. I hope you enjoy it.

To the Nymphs of the Forest, the Field, the Stream, the Sea
(Dryads, Leimoniads, Naiads, Oceanids)

Sailing on a sea of love,
She sparkles like sunlight on waves
And frolics ‘neath the stars above
As in the moonlit waters she bathes.

Her radiant heart glows bright
Her aura shimmers greens and golds
Shining a beacon in the night
As the wealth of her smile unfolds.

Her eyes whisper of stories
She holds deep in her siren’s heart
Of ships and heroes and glories
That mere words could never impart.

So she sings angelic tones
That mesmerize the souls of men
Her voice could melt a heart of stone
As it dances upon the wind.

Hers is a heady perfume
An intoxicating delight
A presence that fills any room
A flame that makes waters ignite.

She gifts us with her laughter
And all the blessings of her soul
Until joy becomes rapture
And even broken hearts are whole.

© 2003 Diana Henderson
(originally written for my friend Nancy)