The Rider and the Writer

I have taken my quill
And blunted
Its sharp point
Shredded its feathers
And drained the ink well.

Words stutter

In my mind.
They blur upon the page
And mastery of structure
Meter and meaning
Evade me.

It is as though

I have been thrown from the saddle.
But I am a rider and a writer.

Restoration requires

I sit the saddle.
Requires
I fashion a new quill.
Requires
I refresh the ink well.

Both the rider and the writer

Need not speed to return.
All of life is a walk
Before it is a run
And a word
Before it is a sentence.