Yellow Butterfly

Life make noise within the morning
  but within the noise there is a space of silence
  and within the silence there is a man
  writing gray story

  The window is open
  but he
  writes separated from the morning
  separated from something living that now insists
  as if from the other side of a windowpane

  something living and disobedient
  leaning over the page from nowhere
  inspecting the path of ink
  where words say no
  ...
  It is close
  but hidden
  like the light within light
  like the life within life

  but does not choose to be
  It lingers
  in detached movement
  in acute possibility
  in a yellow that trembles
  It attempts a frail compromise
  between deception and substance:
  wings
  But in a corner of the air
  with sudden aplomb

  It gathers into a flash
  against darkness of leaves