BLUE MORPHEUS BUTTERFLY digital manipulation by Michael Forbus and copyright too. Miguel gently kissed Rosita awake and handed her a steaming cup of fresh ground strong coffee with a honeycomb in it, tasting it first to make sure it was just how she liked it. He had been up before dawn, and marveled at the colors the Sun God had painted. He was freshly shaved, close to the skin like she loved it. He had fresh blindingly white cotton on with a blue sash woven by Rosita. Mi Amour, es tiempo para miel. Rosita, my Queen, it is time to collect the honey. She stretched like a panther rising, her beautiful body brown like a berry, sinewey and muscles like ropes rippling. Esta Bien, mi amour. Rosita also dressed in pure white cotton with a rainbow sash she had woven as well. Rosita, so talented, made all their clothing. They had a large garden that Miguel tended and Rosita helped when she wanted to talk to Miguel. It was loved and tilled like a Zen garden. Miguel loved to cook, and used firey chiles. When Rosita wanted a more delicate meal, she made love to Miguel in the sunny afternoon and he would sleep and dream of his good fortune and the beauty of his wife. He would wake with his dinner wafting in the palapa. Rosita packed tortillas and Oaxaca cheese and a bit of Golden Tequila Reposado for the hike. They would go to the cliffs way in the distance to gather the honey. Miguel would carry the ropes and climb to dizzying heights to gather the combs and lower them to Rosita. She would take them from his bag and wrap them in pure white cotten. She was always terrified of Miguel climbing so high in the heavens. She knew he had fear of heights and was aware that he was also very careful. It was something that they had to do to survive. He was tired of the same old fears and every climb, he tried to laugh in the face of death. The sweat of fear, the salt would draw the bees to him. So he prayed and calmed himself. As he did the sweat would stop and his skin would become benign and tasteless. His smoke stick would make the bees drowsy. Then he would collect and cut the comb with his machete. He found himself praying more and more for his life the more his heart belonged to Rosita. When they were finished, they wrapped the combs well and laid the serape out to make lunch first, then some of the Nectar of the Gods, the Repasado. Then the slow eating of honey from each other's naked bodies and drenching the fresh tortillas like children then the slow and most loving caressing of the other. No matter how careful they were, they were always covered with the golden honey when satiated. As they drifted to siesta, they both dreamed of the life they had together. When they awoke, they were covered with the Blue Morpheus butterflies nibbling the nectar, pollen and honey from the bodies of Miguel and Rosita. They were covered in iridescent blue as if a Royal Cobalt garment. The butterflies fluttered in unison and so very happy and fortunate. They layed still and enjoyed the tickling of the nibbling coverlet of the Morpheus. Soon they dove into the pure stream of the cool river and the butterflies took to the plumeria for a second meal. The baby they made that day always had a slight blue tint and he always thought he could fly, all his life. Who knows, maybe he could. He had no fear of heights. copyright by Miguel