Dublin Man by David James Delaney
There is a chill in the air; it’s raining outside.
The sun has set and night has inked its way,
traversed a landscape that prefers shadow.
So many believe in a dichotomous world
but what is seen here, painter’s light brightens
a handsome face, rough-striking hands.
How brilliant the eyes and hands that can
transform multicolored pigments into light
how brilliant the eyes and hands that can
tell you the story of a man who worries about
the troubles of the world; of what he can
do to parse them, make it better, how brilliant
eyes and hands that report damp and drizzle
and that a man has come in briefly from the cold.