The winnowy dust mote

 Tired like the winnowy dust mote

I flote

'til down a swirl,

I whirl

Caught!

I thought,

Decision made

I lade plans

with more might

than most motes.

Then again

sunbeam sity

my day-night

I fight

powerful flight

with all might

to turn wandering vectors

into many-mote army

with plan.

Battle long,

hordes finely dusted

in mote attire

Enemy menemy

bladed

Giant tufted

rufted in tumult

'til my army spread

like stirred vortex.

Multitude lost

fliers grounded

swept finely from

the battleground

clogged and rending

heat impending

toppling, swaying

crash, damn!

Mighty enemy

finishly with tremendously

updraft

Rising high

in your eye

I’m more than dust mote

to bring tears

On a hot Southern day

with no way

to beat the heat

than sty your eye.