When I come into your world will it turn upside down? Wrongs made right with understanding- often right the wrong, yet wrong it still is.
I am a man clad in white weathered by war and strife bringing you just one red rose. A single flower, yet the last one grown by my own hands I give to you.
So am I free to roam within the gardens that you planted? Can I taste the fruit of your trees and smell the essence of the life you grow?
I wish to run naked in your fields feeling the grass giving way to our flesh as I lay you down in your meadow.
Free from the toils of life and the culture of concrete and steel, I give myself to your needs.
Within the honeysuckle and sweet smelling phlox, I feel your body rise against my desires and lift high on my hips as you sway with the evening breeze.
The last rays of the sun glisten off your golden hair as it sweeps across my face.
I watch the surrounding plants sway in unison as you push your body onto mine as if they beckon me home to your side.
I wonder at such a sight as I arch upward to meet the glory that you have provided me.
With each gust I am moved to understand the reality of the nature that surrounds your life. With each touch of my tongue I taste the power of your will; vanilla, cinnamon,
and the salt of the ocean is all that I yearn for.
When I come, I see the glory of your blossoms of the spring, tasting nectar for the first time yielding to summer and to dazzle within the daises as you run free as only wild ponies do.
Unfenced, and not binding to anyone but self, I feel the freedom that surrounds you.
Within each sound of your voice I am transfixed and held breathless by your beauty.
Even in spring’s rain or summer’s sun a tiny snowflake falls somewhere to earth and I want to be the one who catches it.
For within the tiny crystal of ice I find myself reflecting on the very essence that you portray every day within your own realm.
When I come, will you tell me you needed me to fulfill the tilling of your garden?
Will you blossom, scented within your own natural environment, or will you wilt from the pressures of life that follow me?
When I come, locked eye to eye, only flowing with what God surrounds us with, shall I say I love you or hear you say that?
I may never know until I come to you and make that first step in your field.

Rb 9-29-08