agleam

His blue eyes agleam, his trousers pressed, the former president, a wanderer accustomed to the planet’s cruel and harsh predicaments, offered coffee and pastries in his hotel room.

“I’m going to lie to you tonight, a lot,” he says, eyes agleam.

Or, as we see in “The Woman King’s” cut-to-the-quick opening scene, to rise silently from the grasses, sword out, midriff bared, shoulders agleam with sweat and firelight.

Vivienne has come out of the crowd, cat eyes agleam, hair loose around her face.

His eyes agleam, his voice leavened with the smoke of countless joints, the 71-year-old comic, writer, art collector, actor, potter and son of a Los Angeles cop is sanguine and contemplative about life’s curious trajectories.