Four short scenes follow one puddle, and each one makes it matter a little more. In the first, the puddle is what's left of a frog pond, as if the pond has been reincarnated in a smaller, humbler form. The second notices that where a huge oak once stood, there is now more open sky, and the puddle holds all of it in its reflection. The third is the quietest: a single firefly flashes, and only the puddle seems to answer, mirroring its blink back.
The last haiku changes direction. The speaker speaks straight to the puddle, telling it not to be afraid because storms are coming. It's a gentle, almost tender moment, since rain will refill it.
Taken together, the poems suggest loss and renewal living side by side. The mood is calm, observant, and affectionate. The speaker doesn't see the puddle as a leftover. They treat it as a small thing that still reflects the world and is worth comforting.