By Bryant Williams
Mary, Mary, who’s not contrary, knows how her gardens grow;
With fertile soil, and lots of toil, and knowing what to sow.
It’s early in the morning when she’s out there being busy.
She goes top speed when there’s a need. Her pace would make you dizzy.
She pulls the weeds, and trims the shrubs, and hopes the sky turns gray.
When there’s no rain she feels the pain, and waters night and day.
There are winding paths and statues and terraces made of stone.
Flower beds are made using hoe and spade. She gets weary to the bone.
But in the end it’s worth it, producing that beauty galore.
Though hours it took; she takes a look, and then starts planting more.
Many folks in boats pass by on the lake to gaze at Mary’s place.
They show delight at the pretty sigh, which brings a smile to her face.
Someday she’ll get to Heaven and check out what is growing.
She’ll look a lot for a garden plot. If there’s not one then she just isn’t going!