Like honey on the tip of my tongue
Golden sunrise melting slowly
This day so wobbly legged young
Clouds floating where they are flung
Made of dripping newness wholly
Like honey on the tip of my tongue
Bashful daisies to fog have clung
Even pink worms don’t seem lowly
This day so wobbly legged young
Breathing heady baby breath into it’s lung
Wild fragrance of clover and moly
Like honey on the tip of my tongue
The free bird’s song must be sung
Any disruption would strike hard and unholy
This day so wobbly legged young
Even cobwebby star strands fadingly strung
Oh that this dawn could forever be-
This day so wobbly legged young
The Wisdom of Gavroche 
Lovely description of a new day.