135.   COME MORNING The early sky fills quickly  with orangey-pink clouds shifting  to deep coral to soft cantaloupe then peachy-apricot and saffron. Just as quickly delicate blue  slips in behind  shadow-black oak leaves  and branches.  Within minutes the show's over,  morning has begun. *comments welcome

134. dawn softly arrives this paler version of night this faded echo *comments welcome

  This article suggests the question when writing a poem: what is the constraint? What is the constraint against which the expression builds and/or relieves tension? If not rhyme, then it could be alliteration, consonance, assonance, meter, cadence, syllabics, chiasmus, or repetition (e.g. tritina, pantoum, etc.) What makes it something other than hyper-lineated flat expression? I read somewhere recently the claim that the problem with "no ideas but in things" is that people will list a bunch of things and call it a poem. It's left up to the reader to find the poetry in it. That may or may not be a legitimate claim. These bigger questions sometimes bug me, especially when I uncharacteristically find I can't sleep at 1 am.

133. MOSQUITO This heat has me thinking  about summers when I was a girl,  when we lived at the lake. Some nights it was too hot to sleep,  no A/C or window fans,  house open all day, brothers  and dogs running through.  That's how the mosquitos got in.  Little flying vampires attacking, nighttime slumber impossible,   constantly whining round my head.  I'd cover myself with a sheet, then couldn't breathe  so out I'd come, only to have  the mosquito dive bomb me again.  I tried to ignore the high-pitched singing but being bitten was worse.  Such guzzling! Such gorging!  That tiny winged warrior left a lumpy red itch that ruined any chance  of sleep. *comments welcome

132. NOTHING IS how it's supposed to happen. My heart humming a happy tune, I’m smiling under fluorescent stars. Pillows and featherbeds can fly, alarm clocks suddenly don't exist, all that’s quiet is magic and I fall asleep, dreaming of the sun. *comments welcome

Lime green beginnings of new leaves softly exhale as springtide arrives *comments welcome