the roll of days

It's begun, the roll of days,

no one distinguishing itself from the others.

I do not even know if it is the middle or end of the month.

I will only remember the the things in this day

that left a leaving mark:

the cold patch in my driveway,

an email to the choir director,

and perhaps, the check I wrote

that will end up on next month's bank statement.

I will forget Jaden Smith's natural ease on the movie screen,

the flirtatious invitation I extended in a text,

my vow to greet everyone I met with a smile,

the way I created a circle for tonight's meeting,

and the comment I made in the middle of the prayer

that made everyone laugh. I do not know

the purpose of these days, the ones that slide by

without notoriety. They pass like clouds,

morphing from shape to blob to shape,

then plow off to the east, forgotten,

but yet part of that stream of grace

that comes from being without proving,

living without needing to earn your place.