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.
In the poem, I imagined the two Dorothys being, briefly, one person.
A great wind ripped the cottage from its moorings,
hurled it, spinning,
upwards and away
then released it
to somewhere that wasn’t Kansas.
She stumbled outdoors
acquired a pair of ruby slippers,
skipped down the Yellow-Brick Road
and the Cowardly Lion,
to find the Emerald City
Dorothy clicked heels three times.
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.