A Morning Balance

Stepping out from beneath the emerald shade of the banker's lamp, I discovered a slender vintage dip pen resting askew across an antique brass inkpot. Its fine metal nib hovered inches above the desk blotter, tilted like a delicate see-saw. Evaluating its pivot point with calm deliberation, I stepped poised onto the tapered wooden shaft. Moving with measured, deliberate footwork toward the center, I felt the nib gently dip and rise against the morning air. Standing tall in a composed balance right at the fulcrum, I paused to let the quiet room settle into perfect, graceful equilibrium.