We're delighted to present our Poem Of The Day, presented in association with Poetry Ireland

Today's poem is Promise of a Sunny Day by Paul McCarrick - read it below.

Galway is the promise of a sunny day with definite certainties of rain

wrapped in another promise of a longer November evening

all trapped in a magician's pocket on Shop Street who promises

you the world but gives you wrong directions to the Claddagh.

Along this trail on this Tuesday afternoon, you see men diving

into big pints of stout, drowsed, defeated, drinking the black stuff.

This plan is their first of many savage plans on the good day.

It is probably their first love; the pints, the defiance, Galway.

You hear them tell this to the women, partners, friends, patrons

with bad timing, now caught in the web of addictive tribal craic.

You see from their full-teeth laughs, their faces shaded with dread

that these pints, with the help of predictive hindsight, will be well-intended.

They love the pint of plain as only they can, but they also love whipped breaths

of wilderness that make the evening, stationary solid stones of coast and walls,

market fresh Saturday mornings. It’s what brought you here, organised madness

with enough road markings to fool you to think that, somewhere, there is control.

Galway is probably your first breaking too, the tides high enough to walk across,

the bars low enough to trip over, enough ill-judged nights had to power red heaters

for a lashing month in a smoking area for sardines. You are ten-years full of awe

and wonder and have the perfect vision of cultúr and can still deny the existence

of a fast-approaching future that blows through these busker-lined paths and

breaks cobblestone cereal bowls. You can look at anyone the way Sally O’Brien

might have looked at you on a Tuesday, but we will remember that today is still

indeed a Tuesday with all the promise of a sunny day and definite certainties of rain.