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.