Andrew Hamlin strings together a run of tiny snapshots, many of them opening with the refrain "Summer sets…". The word "sets" works two ways: the sun going down, and a season slipping toward its close. Around that refrain come ordinary details: a stuffed wagon left at the curb, toddlers churning a wading pool, a sunburned earlobe scratching the pillow, a dog's ball rolling with no one to chase it.
The speaker seems wry and a little self-mocking, noting sweaty wrists, nail fungus and suspenders clamped to long pants. Yet an undertone of loneliness and passing time runs underneath. The line about having "no longer time enough left to watch all the films he wants" and the cracked watch band suggest awareness of aging. The abandoned ball and the fire truck's howl sharpen that feeling.
The mood is quiet, funny and wistful, like an evening when the heat fades and you notice small things you'd usually miss.