Talking with My Body

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!

That I am old,
should be happy that anything works, 
even if it admits that 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: “Then, what, exactly, is the problem? 
Why not a rest? 

Unless death is what you are seeking 
and I can’t agree with that.

Just take a rest.

You’ll have energy to waste in the morning.
I can promise that.”