Not only light. Birds, too
as particles, perch along
power lines or the barn roof—
long strings of feathered beads.
At the invisible signal
they lift and turn,
tacking against the
bronze breeze from the mountain.
Fluid as white sheets on a clothesline
caught by the wind
another thing that is not water
but streams in the light
Birds lifting as a flock
Birds becoming wave.
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Puff Of Smoke Poems 
Wonderful imagery. Love the clothesline, wave, birds…
Thanks for dropping by and for taking time to comment. This daily poem practice is wild, isn’t it? I enjoy reading your daily poems too at Writing The Day.