Dew and birdsong are two of the words that came to mind when I woke up blind to clouded sun slivers through slits of the parted shades following fits of fruitless sleep.
The wetly kissed paths with lines of living or withered grass and robin cardinal whistle, hopping limb to branch wondering if walking isn't so bad though I've never been on a plane.
I would have seen the sunrise this morning but clouds and trees obscured my yawning eyes and so did the crows, staccatos in skies that are really pretty pretty anyway.