I too am culling.
Kernels of an idea
for a new novel
from the heat of my excitement.
As they crowd out the air of doubt from my wily ego-mind,
I am drawn to the seat of creation.
My heart-soul soaks up the fertile thoughts
as it celebrates the gestation,
encouraging me to play.
My ego-mind begs
to organize the spores,
(it loves doing that).
I say okay.
But please be quick about it.
I so want to put words to paper.
And so the season begins…