Resolve, a poem

Resolve

I once again resolve
to make no resolutions,
to take no vows of vengeance,
to lead no revolutions.

Tomorrow comes a new year,
but it looks  quite the same;
I’ll leave my books unbalanced,
I’ll score not one game.

Whatever sprouts in Spring,
I’ll harvest come the Fall;
I’m thoroughly against
making plans at all,

for if I did, I’m certain
I’d watch them all dissolve;
I’ll make no resolutions —
this I do resolve.

Stephen Brooke ©2023