All night while we sleep

in the dark of the kitchen by the sink

the coffee tumbler stands on its head upside down like a yoga pose in the drying rack

beside the Belgian beer glass, the salad spinner, the rubber spatula and spoons.

When I rise I am the first to the coffee maker

and there I salute the coffee tumbler,

the Belgian beer glass and spoons

for they are dry, it took them all night,

and soon to be wet again.

Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: Billy Collins, poem