A hamlet in the heartland where
One’s social rank was prized,
Lived Sam and Lisa Tarian,
Their yard was over-sized.
It took Sam hours every week,
To cut, with riding mower,
The grass that grew within their yard,
Some weeks his time was slower.
He’d never been awarded,
(Lisa thought ‘twas sure a snub)
The sign that read, “Yard of the Month”
From hamlet’s Garden Club.
Through Lisa’s kitchen window
A rainbow-world revealed,
Were robins, cardinals, butterflies,
And emerald-colored fields.
Obsessed over the “Yard” award,
Sam read in Lawn and Yard
That “Landscaping with boulders
Is the latest –‘avant-garde,’
And fountains are so—yesterday!
Transform a yard that’s stark,
Use boulders that are graded and
Scribed with our chisel mark.”
“The chisel mark tells quality
And where the stone derived,
The grade, the weight, the color
Have all been categ’rized.
Display the chisel mark with pride!
When in your yard it’s placed,
Your friends can view the chisel mark –
Reflecting your good taste!”
“Of course, the choicest colors
Will be ash and charcoal gray,
And that, along with weight and grade,
Determine what you pay.
Our boulders are exquisite,
That’s why we’re world renowned,
And at this price they’re selling fast—
A mere ten cents a pound.
It took all of their savings for
The purchase of the boulders,
But worth it for the Garden Club,
The eye of the beholder.
More bolder with each boulder placed,
Sam’s avant-garde finesse,
“Yard of the Month” would soon be his—
The Garden Club impressed.
Soon every inch of yard was filled
With monolithic boulders,
Just one small patch of grass remained,
The width of Lisa’s shoulders.
And now Sam’s work with riding mower
Took quarter of an hour.
Yard, ready for the Garden Club—
A landscaped boulder-bower.
But Lisa was despondent,
Her window view devoid
Of rainbow-colored anything,
Sighed “Humph” – clearly annoyed.
Now all she saw was various shades
Of ash and charcoal gray,
And pigeons roosting on the rocks
Her “Humph!” displayed dismay!
The Garden Club met at their house
Upon their patch of grass,
Had tea and finger sandwiches
‘Twas hamlet’s upper-class.
A dream-come-true for Lisa’s Sam,
To hob-knob and rub shoulders,
Conversing, though proved difficult,
Words echoed off the boulders.
Oh no! Too late! — for Lisa saw
Their yard, though avant-garde,
That pigeons roosted on the rocks
Left pigeon calling cards.
Then chairwoman of Garden’s Club
In covert move (sort of),
Touched what she thought was chisel marks,
It came off on her glove!
A “Humph” released from high-brow lips.
She spewed her cup of tea,
‘Cause what she thought was chisel marks
Was pigeon graffiti.
“Yard of the Month,” – their hopes now dashed,
(If one can presuppose)
“Your yard appears,” mocked Garden Club,
“Like Stonehenge in repose.”
Their life savings wrapped up within
The boulders on the ground,
Sam swears they got a bargain—
The cost— ten cents a pound!
The “Yard” award did not transpire
Because of boulder mountains,
But bestowed upon a neighbor,
In his yard there was a fountain.
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