Bountiful

You don't just say grace

Before you dig in

You stand and dance and sway

Around the kitchen

And feast your eyes, astounded by

What you've been given

Before you even

Sit down

In Bountiful

And when you allemande

With the pans and the cupboards

You lapse into a trance

And dance like a lover

Till dinner time has slipped your mind

And you can't recover

Like a drunkard

Stumbling around

In Bountiful

And when you fold your hands

You laugh

Because the words escape you

So when you pray

You shut your mouth

In Bountiful

The harvest moon is high

In late September

And life's in great supply

Of the sweet and the tender

But it's the whole ordeal before the meal

You will remember

If you ever

Make it down

To Bountiful