The winding up, winding down

I went through papers yesterday
Piles and scaps, financial debris
It use to be more—the paper piles
Now, it is detritus, with the other electric;
submerged in the ethereal swirl . . .
The NYT said to back it all up
the cloud is untrustworthy
use disks; use printers
Yet, the clouds are where we all live
Up and above, thinking we can go higher
into the ether
Above so many rest.

Not that the day is different; the calendar is different
it marks another year
One far from when I was thin and freckled, curly hair and beach towels
I feel years now; they are heavy in the tummy; achy in the knees
these are the only totems that remind me of passing
the rest is mixed up, meandering through ambitions, desires,
I say it is all so much more simple; yet this is not true.
Youth was not deeply carved; it was a few lines; a few lessons, but a galloping heart