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