The poem looks closely at an anemone and keeps changing what it is. First it's a "wind flower," which is what the name literally means, then an "open book," then a wheel turning on the same axle as the earth. Each image makes a small flower feel larger, as if it were tied to the whole planet's motion.
The speaker then turns to the flower directly. Its "wild moods," probably the way it shifts and shivers in the wind, are "mead" to a solitary bee, a drink that intoxicates and nourishes at once. The final lines are an invitation: "let's take all spring / to read the road." The speaker seems to want company and a slow pace, treating the season like a text worth reading carefully. The mood is quiet, curious and gently joyful, with a sense of wanting to linger rather than hurry on. The poem is short, but it lets one flower open out into a whole way of paying attention.