Butterfly moment

I realise this will not bear scrutiny as a perfect use of language, never mind whatever rules apply to poetry, it is my way of remembering a summers evening calm and warm when a butterfly landed on my wrist and I found something profound and magical about it.
So I wrote it down.

Butterfly moment.

It was late in the day,
Neither an evening nor a daytime, but a rich bliss of both.
when the sun lit the underside of an evenings cloud,
with a still shimmering haze, sunset shone with silken rays.
and as the moon softly climbed the sky,
to offer its star jewelled shroud,
its trillion tonned echo alight with exquisite patience, and it became then that instant
that the smallest question ever asked, was "why?"

and as I sat gazing both at what lay without,
and saw what played and learned within,
I knew then, that it would begin:
and you alighted on my sleeve, with a folding and shimmering
in that last lights glimmering,
on what we both knew, was your first and only day.

We faced each other proud, silently being allowed, to truly see ourselves, in each a special way.
I breathed slow and slight, as that, your only day, turned to night
and the scent of the border flowers, of which you would only ever know one season
wrapped us, beguiled us, and lifted and measured us,
and I knew then, life was beyond knowing, and would never need reason

and you lifted and folded your Faberge and Michael Angelo,
precisely perfect Symphony, Set Your Self to fly, Wings.
and I began to see
To be what you must Be,
Your Life, Your self, Your perfect radiant wings..
I felt so small as you let me know that your day had been good,
a first and last unbroken.

The eloquence of I know not what, spoke between us, spoke of all.
We never broke gaze,
as you lifted from me, so quietly, and we knew it had ended, swept your dazzle to the sky
to that brightest last thing, that sunset, The last you would ever see of summer haze,
Then we, or at least I, felt a whole life sweep by.

That spell of us unspoken....
And we had done more,
I was sure, than could be measured.
On that first yet the last of our time.
and I sat silent.
without words...

...........as a blackbird chattered at the stars, scolded the dusk,
and claimed the ancient rites.