That Tense Middle Afternoon Feeling

constricts, even after a nap
a snake of the middle of the
day, telling, ordering, an 
authority on time, sliding
around my mid-section
and threatening to cut off
the circulation, the
perambulation, a stasis 
promised by the un
threatening clouds
that never the less
carry their load
to prevent the sun
from telling me:
the day is for you
the day is mine