my indian rope plant that my mother-in-law
gave mere months before she left,
gifted us this autumn 
with its third round of balls of pink
since the start of spring

i have no idea why it did this
since some years this particular hoya 
never delivers these water-filled 
blossoms at all

so multiple times a day, i lift the vine 
and pause, soaking the beauty in close,
a daylight garden galaxy 
of ruby-hearted mauve

and i marvel and muse at how spectacular
nature consistently, honestly is--and smile
that right here beside my kitchen sink, 
my husband’s big-hearted mum 
encourages me still

(and i would hugely suspect that she
is completely delighted too)

         --when they linger in our memory

heather pound 2025