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