Nothing remarkable happened today.
I woke, drank my coffee;
even the street kept its promises.
Somewhere, a door closed
with the sound of an ending
too small to name.
Somewhere else, someone swallowed
the sentence
that would have broken the afternoon open.
I carried my name through the hours
like a coin warming in my pocket –
a small, persistent gravity
I kept forgetting to spend.
A kindness brushed past, unnoticed.
A thought lifted its head,
then chose the discipline of silence.
By evening, the light leaned
its shoulder against the walls,
tired, forgiving,
asking nothing in return.
If this year has taught me anything,
it is how much of living
happens beyond applause,
and how faithfully the heart,
left unattended,
keeps time without instruction.