I find sanctuary in this sonnet when as verdant hills rhymes do fall and rise with aspens quaking in the windless skies. One such will have blue birds flocking on it. The trees shall be my muse and bid me write while I in white gazebo am ensconced with flowers vased, each color a nuance in my lyrics, a-blush at first then white. As I meander through a cloudless dream the shades ever change in the wake of love. Each line will fit my lyrics like a glove while blue birds harmonize in morning's gleam. Eyes of love are each an estuary in the sonnet of this sanctuary.