I get the urge to dig out my planners,

and something pulls me back.

Slowness.

My brain jolts—wants to pull everything out of the kitchen cabinets.

Reorganize, reset, begin again.

But something stops me short.

Softness.

My eyes scroll endlessly, everyone announcing new plans.

Rushing and cleaning and setting goals on goals.

The air even warms, a slight nod toward spring.

Something in me whispers, wait.

My plants need watering.

There’s piddling to be done.

I dabble.

I piddle.

I sit.

I wait.

An idea sparks. A project emerges in my mind.

Then something in the air ushers me back to my cozy chair.

I look around at all that needs doing. I make lists from my chair.

I rearrange books and flowers and wooden spoons.

I make more lists from my chair.

I’m not ready.

It’s not time yet.

Something weighs me down.

So I let it.