Middle of the Day Poems

It's not yet evening 
And there's music playing 
Rain falling 
Angels guarding nothing 
For all is secure 
Comfortable, things in themselves 
Philosophers, poets sit quietly 
Stacked on each other 
I pull out a blanket 
Wrap myself up 
Stretch out my back 
And leave the preponderances behind 
Post-pondering, in full feeling 
Seeing the green in the dirt 
Does this one thirst?
I do not 
I am slaked at this middle day page