two viewings of a butterfly

too far off
beauty gliding
butterflies I try to catch
like the contrails of a 
lovely dream
spinning in circles with
a net made from
a clementine bag
my fingers reaching in 
to snare it gently
its wings beating slowly against 
my palm
like a breath 
I pull my magnifying glass
from my pocket
and hover with wide eyes
over the butterfly
but...
its wings are rough
and so fragile they make
me anxious
and its body is packed out
with heavy anatomy
and its eyes gloss
like sour blackberries
I suddenly don't want this
thing
on my hand
why did I have to look?
it was so beautiful on the wind
now it has morphed again
into what I fear
horror crawling
too close