Three short lines sketch a quiet, unhurried afternoon by the shore. The speaker hears wind moving through sand, then says they are eating oysters and walking, apparently with no schedule at all. The title, "Medicine," suggests that this simple routine is a kind of cure, though the poem never says what it is curing.
The last line gives the clue. The speaker walks "to keep myself from clock and caudle." A caudle is an old-fashioned warm drink once given to the sick, so the line seems to set two things aside: the pressure of ticking time and the habits of illness or being looked after. Walking, fresh air and food from the sea take their place. The mood is calm, a little wistful, and quietly defiant. The speaker doesn't announce any feeling, but the plain, slow details suggest relief at stepping out of ordinary time and letting the outdoors do the healing.