You are the sea breeze on a summer day: the scent of lavender and wood,  after it rains           :rich in soil - the kind that germinates                     blessings                           for crows                           for morning eagles                  ...

Come to my sanctuary of love. This is where honeysuckle lingers on each fingertip,where the scent of jasmine permeates your essence.You are the flower of life,a lotus of love.Open your petals.Feel the nectar tasting your lips.Enter my baptismal waters of ecstasy…...

Your light ignites a burning flame bright on the lips of the water wave after wave you erupt an explosion of love an explosion of desire. I hear you come in the night stars kiss you the moon bows. You taste like memory a forgotten friend ready to be remembered. I need...

How do you dream at night? Do the stars bow to your feet? Do they kiss your honeyed-lips? I want to step inside your sky, write your name upon the moon, taste the milk in my hair, and your hands in my heart. This is how I belong to you - inside you, within you. This...

I see that slight curl of your lips mischievous and coy. I see the glimpse of arousal in your eyes, Bright with Fire. I hear the way your tongue curls in a languid hiss wanting yearning. I feel the desire on your hands and collapse to my knees. ©Rebecca Cavender

Your body is land-water-sky. You’re birthed from all three. We live within you. Salt bones Liquid light Wind pathways: We bring you home. Home to the light dance. Of water and sky and land. You are our salt. —says Earth— ©Rebeca...

I feel the beat of my heart in the womb of the earth.  It pulsates, extending a warm hand -stretched across sky- tracing, like braille, secret codes that remember           truth           grace           a mirrored love. There's union in this:           magma   ...

And this earth hurts more today And this land hurts more today And this eruption of chaos  /of undulating pain/ is louder today.   And I want to caress the bruised cheeks of the planet, sweep into caverns of fire with sweet-honey rain—  spilling blessings for scorched...

This is not the kind of love borne from cedar-ocean-moss  or the scent of rain kissing your cheek. This is not lost in soft tides ebbing-flowing emotional currents  changed by the hour, traveling outside territories  searching searching searching. No. This love...