Peace Lily

Peace Lily

My black‑thumb wife has a Peace Lily
that has endured all the years since
we moved to our new house on Lemonade Street.

It rests on its cast iron steeple
in half sun, half shade,
at the farthest corner of Casa Moya.

She waters it
whenever the leaves
droop below the wire basket.

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas
its spathes bloom hoping for bees,
and pups split to propagate new plants.

T’is the season the plant gets moved
to the sunniest part of the house
to accommodate her new artificial tree.

There between the living room and kitchen window,
raised on an unused step stool for light,
the Peace Lily, never outgrowing its pot, endures.

And every year I gift a copper penny
to rest beneath its soil in gratitude
for its survival, and the joy it gives my wife.

Next year, a quarter
to mark the death of pennies
and keep pace with inflation.