yellow days

the air lay dank and musty hugged the ground
in quiet's incapacitated form
of drowning floats and heavy sky, no sound
was heard of yellow's ruminating storm.
the bees drone on in busy solitude,
the dust weighs deep upon their opaque wings,
through yellow air, an angry buzz, a brood
of wind's arousing, heated, angry sting.
confusion's dust in rising, choking, kills,
a smothering of fresh and brightening life,
to breathe is death, extinguishing mind's will
to leave, escape, the yellow's macabre strife.
gone are the bright and yellow happy days
replaced by dust's sand, suffocating haze.