Humanid

Lumps of heat roll off the clouds,
falling away at the skirt of the void.
Amarillo heatdrops reconvene
mere inches apart, and fade to smoke.

Tendrils of wind split apart,
smothering altars in gold
and soaking the banks
with their weightless dread.

Independent of the idea
and one with the drive,
they scurry and deposit
and resonate like a hive.

A sandstorm of eggshells
leaving nothing but yoke.