Oh beautiful, for spacious skies
for amber waves of grain.
For purpled mountains majesty
above the fruited plain....
Why can’t I write
words like that
which flow sweetly
from your lips
instead of words
which rhyme and chime
and from my da--rips.
As I gaze
across the plains
at lovely Mt. Rainier
the only words
I muster up are a
commercial for cold beer.