Praise for the crescent moon that hung low in the blanket-dark sky.
Praise for the first warmth of Spring and a chair on a beach,
Praise for the families that clambered across sand and rocks, jumpers and blankets piled up, dogs and children never still, like the breeze.
Praise for the abandoned sandcastle, shell on top, placed with care by some other visitor.
Praise for the pillows and cushions, luxury and rest for a tired body.
Praise for the taste of tea, the goodness of bread, the sweetness of cake.
Praise for a pile of books, a stream of visitors, flowers in jugs and vases and cups, filling a house.
Praise for music: the singular voice of a violin, the strength of singing, the journey the electric guitar takes.
Praise for the tree, small and mottled and the garden, green and square, place of rest and peace.
Praise for the small moments that make a day, the quiet heart and the soul that is well.