Butterfly Net

Searching for a notion, an idea To capture in my butterfly net, Eluding the hunter With weightlessness, Form like smoke Or haze on a summer’s day. Like an eel swimming underwater, Avoiding the rod’s cast and reward By burrowing into mud, Obscuring, hiding, disguising Itself; turning into circles Within circles, ripples. But then sunshine overhead Sharpens my view, Vision arising, lit with tone And form and shape: I write and write As the salmon leaps from the deep. Perhaps it is catching insects Or glorying in exertion, Afraid I’ll turn again To the butterfly net And write about a Red Admiral instead. There is envy amongst thoughts: They compete for space in my mind As I search for a sentence, a phrase That is unknowable, immutable; Like a butterfly in flight, It will not be pinned to the page.