Interesting moment. I’m in the backyard working on a haiku. The day before I’ve seen a butterfly with cobalt blue on its bottom wings. The blue is only noticeable at certain angles, and the first time I saw it, the beauty of the color made me catch my breath. So I’m sitting outside working with that, the butterfly, the blue, my surprise, and I’m happy, the way I always am when I play with haiku. And my friend calls. She’s calm. The cancer in her husband’s lungs has also touched his lymph nodes. We talk about that, about her faith in the doctor, about the treatment, about how sick he will be in the next months, about how she will keep their business together as he goes through this. The doctor is cautiously optimistic, she says, and she is, too. And so will I be for her, but I wonder if she’s walking toward that final hour in what has been her life with him. She’s one of the few people I know, including myself, who is still married to the same man. I think of a piece of a prayer that comforts me, yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. And I think of that flash of cobalt blue and the idea I was playing with, the butterfly as a small magi bringing gifts.