Looking around, this is what I see

Flags flying free in the bright, bustling breeze.

Pinched pointed pens practicing print on the page.

Hot, healthy breakfast with a mild mango mush. 

The Writer's Desk

Beige, wooden, and stable, it is a space for work to be done. The desk is crowded with objects of different shapes and sizes; a pile of books, mostly journals of different forms; an enamel cup filled with pens and Sharpie’s; a kettle with warm water, ready to fill another mug of tea; the mug, with the string of a twice used peppermint tea bag fluttering at its side; the tall, turquoise water bottle, capped but waiting for its next use; the yellow cased iPhone, face down and charging, idling and prompting little distraction, at this point in time… the empty lemon essential oil bottle, stripped of its label but still useful for sentimental reasons; and finally, the MacBook, clad in a black beehive skin with night mode activated throughout, reliably responding to all the commands it is given, recording each word as it is typed and diligently correcting any spelling errors that occur along the way. How thoughtful!