The speaker begins with a kind of prayer, asking to be “monosyllabic” today. The day before, he lashed out—he calls it loosing “a snarl of words” on a fool and on a child. Now he feels guilty and wants to strip his speech down to its plainest, gentlest form. There is regret here, but also a quiet relief in imagining a softer way of being.
The second half turns that wish into a picture: being a companion to old men who “wash sunlight in their fingers” and enjoy slow clocks. It’s an image of patience, calm, and easy companionship where talk is not rushed or used as a weapon. The mood is hushed and reflective, like the morning after an argument. The speaker is not asking for grand forgiveness, just for a day of simple words and slower time.