The Naturalist's Eye Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

A man with an abated breath
Is watching through his socket's breadth
The centipede's contortionist crawl
Across the leaflet's ribs, green vital sprawl.

The wavy thing is pushing its fey body forth
Traversing the greenfield from south to north.
The man with th' view transfixed is watching still,
His mind's eye taking its most primal fill.

The naturalist's eye plays in stereotypes
As it is fed by standards, patterns, types.
Alas, the man's conjecture fails him: why
That very species would be a butterfly?