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WINDING DOWN
a sonnet for the winter solstice
by Robert Stone

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Now winding down the year to shortest day,
the earth is cycling through its path once more
and all its creatures follow on the way
of what comes after and what goes before.

Now winding down my years to three score ten,
my mind insists it can be nimble still
and all its thoughts be fresh and new again
and actions showing undimished skill.

Now winding down my future time of gifts,
my body says some season will be last
and all its strength be lost through growing rifts
of prodding future and preserving past.

And someday winding up when I am gone,
may others find my lines of hope well drawn.