One syllable, five letters long, I am where the heat belongs. I flicker, I flutter, I never stay still. Say my name?

In patterns of lace, my weave does flow, A catcher's charm, where waters do show. With threads so thin, by the shore I wait, A fisher's delight, when the hour's late.

I can greet you without a word, or crash against the shore. I carry sound, light, and heat, but I have no hands or floor. What am I?

In my kitchen, tiny treasure, in a sack or jar, I measure. Golden fields do I sustain, nature's bounty, sweet refrain.

A flower's sacrifice, perpetuated by starry eyed girls