A dominant feature of urban space in most parts of the world is the power cables that bring electricity to the homes and shops of people. This seeming mess of entangled black wire obviously obeys some kind of functional order, as the system (mostly) works. But at times it also acquires a different, more poetic order.
Reading this black wire as a language, truly most of it is sheer babble. But from time to time, small poetic verse is written against the sky. It has rhythm. Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s a whisper. Some verse is written with bold pathos, while some is fragile and gentle. And while some are complex and thick, and requires several re-reads to give away its poetic quality, others are as easy to understand as a children’s lullaby.
If you keep an open eye for it, these black noodles, these air mikados, at times, is sky poetry.