One would assume, perhaps,
that reading Göran Rosenberg's
A Brief Stop On the Road from Auschwitz
would plant great resolutions in my mind,
put me on the right & righteous track, the narrow road;
have me give myself tall promises
- but I retort to small things,
the way the thin & light snow slowly covers
the front door steps;
how the cat sleeps, rolled up in the armchair, whiskers jerking;
the way I move my legs unconsciously under the quilt,
without planning, with no schedule
and how one thought gives room for another,
and how the last thought before I end this text,
has to do with the Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisea),
that flies from Antarctica to the Arctic and back,
each year