American Poetry
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My country tis of thee
Wish you'd stop shooting me
And all my kin
All made from the same clay
No matter what you say
America, once beautiful -
When will you appear as the stories say?
With your ragged past, were you ever great?
Perhaps achieving ‘great again’ is not the way.
On December 14, 1819, Alabama
Breathed itself beautiful
Alabama rocked itself into beauty
like “sweet tea time” on a front porch
A rocking chair, a square wooden table
Was all that was needed
