by Paula Tohline Calhoun

Filled with warmth, sometimes
Your light settles down upon me
Spreading beyond the landscape
And spilling over the rim of the horizon.

Had I never been cold
I might find your gift excessive.
But I have known my share of
Ice; felt the frost of darkness.

You lift your face to mine
And I know what summer is
I can recall the shimmering heat
And feel the warmth of such memories

And when you choose to turn away
And cast your gaze out of my sight
I will learn to bear the chill
And accept your pale reflection

Dissolved by the rain, disguised in vapor
You have hidden your light
But I have known my share of
Your fire; felt the heat of day.

My life has always been defined
By how and when you show to me
Yourself, your light, your warmth
The gift I cannot forget.


Paula Tohline Calhoun is 61 years old, and a life-long lover and writer of poetry – as long as she has been able to read and write, that is.  She started at age 4 when her Dad first read to her from Ogden Nash’s collection.  She is currently working on a collection in which She is collaborating with a poet from South Africa.  This collection (untitled as yet) is her first publishing effort.  Her poetry interests are very eclectic, and she employs a number of styles – whatever strikes her fancy.