Mirado

A simple tool.
Well used and familiar
Warm in my hand. Round and slightly bowed
The musky odor of pine
Occasionally a failure
A break before we're done

There are more mechanical options available
Every time a winner, but cold.
The comfort of the wood.
The soft lead leaving it's mark

Softly the teeth leave a mark.
The idea draws closer.
Playfully it dances over your knuckles
The words come forth
The warrior lays them down
Left content. and calm.
Put away again, ready.