Reading this poem is a bit like looking out of a moving train window: images arrive, flicker, and give way to the next before you can fit them into a story. There is sound and beat, planes, a shaking cold, fish leaping at the horizon. Then comes a more man-made scene of factory colors, a tower, a dining car, girders, stationwagons, benches by the sea. Crated hens and a traffic island sit oddly beside a starlit oak full of flowers.
The poem doesn't state a clear feeling, but the speaker seems attentive and open, taking in everything without ranking it. Industrial and natural things share the same space. The line "sometimes the sea does turn warmer" brings a small, quiet relief. The ending, "from everywhere / the dawning ends of the world," suggests wide, fresh possibility. The mood is alert and a little dreamlike, as if the world is constantly beginning.