Daily Archives: May 3, 2017


Some homes boast a TV in every room, some have three or four, others have just two. A few have but one.

I have none.

I watch a shapeshifting cloud, while low in the sky, the golden sun sinks.

Hiding behind a hill, it sends its rays to paint the horizon a soft shade of peach, lightly touched with lilac streaks.

The cloud changes shape from a cute pup into a hand held up in a farewell salute, but though it dissipates with the dusk, the show is not over.

The streaks have darkened to mauve; they eat the peach, their gases swelling, and as they grow, they meet to become a deepening sheet across the sky.

On the road, cars flash by, their headlights lighting up the leaves on the trees.

It is night, and reflections make complex patterns on my window; glassy imprints of my interior merge with the sleepy town and the midnight sky.

I revel in the eclectic shapes of my world, and the pictures which change as I move about the room.

Some folks feel the need for four TVs, or three, or two, or only one.

As for me, I need none.


Photo taken from my window at night – not a clear depiction; it was taken with my Samsung Galaxy, so the balance the reflection and the outside world is very diferent to what I see, and far less interesting.

The Daily Post #None

©Jane Paterson Basil

She embraces life



She lives.
Rising from her dank decline
she washed away the filthy film of blighted years
and fixed me with a fullsome smile,
her lips, her cheeks, her gleaming eyes
alive with shining rhapsody.


She lives
and if I danced a step for every tear I shed
and sang a note for every time I feared she’d die,
it would be a fitting tribute to the joy she brings,
but I would sing and dance my life away
in honour of my risen child.


She lives…
released from dark captivity
 where mind and matter had no hold,
she stands strong, a miracle of growth.
Elegantly engaging with the world,
she thinks of better things
and speaks her mind.


She lives,
a brave surviver.
Her heart aligned to authenticity,
  Celebrating, she embraces me.
  She is alive.


©Jane Paterson Basil