WINGS OF A DOVE

This curious poem turned up during a recent spring-clean: I had thought it lost forever.
I recall that when I wrote it I struggled to find a title and finally settled for Yellow.
The alternative choice was Dorothy, the name of the character played by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz.

Dorothy is also the name of the sister of William Wordsworth, with whom the poet lived at Dove Cottage in the Lake District.
In the poem, I imagined the two Dorothys being, briefly, one person.

YELLOW

A great wind ripped the cottage from its moorings,
hurled it, spinning,
upwards and away

then released it
spinning earthwards
to somewhere that wasn’t Kansas.

She stumbled outdoors
into
Technicolor!!!
 
acquired a pair of ruby slippers,
skipped down the Yellow-Brick Road
with Scarecrow, 
Tin-Man
and the Cowardly Lion,
to find the Emerald City

then, 
grown homesick,
Dorothy clicked heels three times.

Awoke.

She found the day turned monochrome,
the beds unmade, no supper ready for her brother.

William burst in: he noticed nothing.

I’ve seen a host of daffodils, he cried. I think I’ll use them in a poem.