Butterflies dangle their moments over the offerings of red and yellow flowers..they pull on their slender leggings and dance in the puddles of nectar…the off to another color to become blended in sweet satiation.

The dark trees lean low between their limbs to watch the butterflies. They rustle their leaves in approval and they wriggle their roots with applauding as the warm earth begins to touch their core with her wet longings.

That river there…the one that whispers in gurgling sounds…it is swallowing with desire to surround the hard thick ends of tree girth…it wants to lap at the splayed damp of earth and devour her contents…to ravish her and take her down below to the river bed where she would be such a lovey erosion.

Dare you walk this pathway to the gardens of abandon..to the gardens carved in leather and stone, the gardens of Ravishtown….