A Prismatic Breakfast

Stepping onto the crisp lace runner of the breakfast table, a crystal honeypot caught my eye bathed in early rays. Beside its fluted rim, a miniature silver honey dipper had slid askew, its ribbed tip resting precariously over the rim and threatening to drop amber nectar onto the pristine linen. Pausing to assess the balance, I tucked my golden fan beneath one arm and approached with steady, deliberate poise. Bracing my fingers against the cool, slender silver handle, I eased the dipper back toward the vessel's center until it stood perfectly upright, anchored in the clear, golden syrup. Morning had found its balance.