There will be a journey, a gathering of mixed herbs
Great swathes, buttressing mountains grazed with
Grassy wigs. Metal structures lining up calculating
The swing to left, to right, catching the intermittent gasps
The rhythm snakes me away, its rattling chorus marching
Ahead, spying on the quality of this paragraph sitting side by side
A vacancy on the page still wearing its white robe, alone for now
I searched out a chance at freedom on a fast track, borrowing scenes
From oiled pallets, hills & dells daubed grandiosely. They deliberately
Bait. Once bitten twice shy. I heard it bandied around.....but...
I am not shy of the wild dogs, howling is a lullaby.  I have the ticket
To be smitten with bitten chances; once, twice...maybe thrice
.....does it for me.