Body Talk

I sing to myself a new song. 
The night is long
and my body is not what it was.

My body tells me 
that cramping is what muscles do
when I sit too long;

that I am old,
should be happy that anything works, 
even if it aches! 

I want to loudly protest: “Fall work’s not done 
and winter’s already here.”
But I’m out of breath.

So, my body asks: “What, then, exactly,
is the problem?
Why not a rest,

unless it’s death you seek to avoid?”
I can’t reasonably disagree
with that.

“So, take a rest.
You’ll have energy to waste in the morning.
I can promise that.

But death you can never avoid!
You’ll get enough rest when it comes,
but it’s not here yet.”