A longed-for pint, another half;
A break from endless rain.
A finished job, a grandchild’s laugh;
A car that starts again.
The Beaujolais, the Stilton’s tang;
The orange evening sea.
The days when fruits abundant hang
From every plant and tree.
A place we know, a new one too;
A gentle hill to climb.
A welcome bed, a stunning view;
A shared remembered time.
Boadicea's Chariot 
Drat.
You really are good at this sort of stuff, Janus. I’m very envious.