A small, quiet moment of distraction drives the poem. The speaker is working at a desk when the soft notes of a vireo draw them outside, and the verb "lure" makes the song feel almost irresistible, like a gentle temptation. Once outdoors, the speaker notices that the dust on their glasses, left over from the night, becomes a "veil of gauze" in the midday sun. It's a lovely image: ordinary grime turns into something delicate and slightly dreamlike, as though the world is softened or half-hidden.
The last stanza brings in something less pretty. Manure smells drift up from the valley, a reminder that this is a working, earthy landscape, not a postcard. Beside that smell, the vireo goes on catching insects, simply doing its job. The mood is calm, observant, and unsentimental. The speaker seems content to accept beauty and bluntness together, and the poem suggests that paying attention to both is part of really being outside.