Incomplete projects mock my commitment make a fool of me to myself keep me from moving forward. How many articles and books lie, embryonic, in my files? Ideas barely developed Concepts without details Kernels that never get to pop. In the meantime, I tidy obsessively -Oh, no, not my files-that might be productive! Instead, it’s closets, the dishes, the garden, An unintentional embrace of my own Squirrelly nature. Like the furry rodents, I gather acorns but never enough To make a stew, and then I’m off to the Next Big Thing. Details get me stuck. How to make this story flow, this idea slip smoothly into reader awareness? I’m not afraid of work, but there are times the work happens in the back of the mind while the hands are busy making pie crust, weeding the lettuce, tidying the cupboard gathering acorns and not thinking about writing. Inevitably, the time comes when back of mind no longer serves, and then it is time to write words on page ideas in concrete form. It is time to shape something in the space opened by tidying, words where none were seen before.