Mythological Blue (#44)

What a distraction, all these leaves—
I can’t see a thing!
Willow oaks shiver, aflame,
Showering axial sparks.

In Washington, Colorado Avenue
Waits until Thanksgiving to blush
Ruby, russet, bending the
Algorithm of Instagram.

Where does the sky go?
Blue, blue! This is why
Farm girls leave the gray
Dairies of upstate New York,

Suffering lobbyists, stuffed
Olives, withered trails of plastic—
Ignited autumn, in search of
Mythological blue.

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