In just four lines, this tiny poem turns a sunset into a piece of household business. An upholsterer, someone who normally mends sofas and chairs, arrives to collect furniture "for the sun." The items he takes are odd: a half moon, a king's worn door, and a silk clock. None of them could really be carried off, which tells us we're in a playful, dreamlike world where the ordinary rules don't apply.
The title's pun on "solar flair" hints at the tone. The sun is being given a stylish makeover, as if it were a grand room that needed redecorating. The speaker doesn't comment or explain, and that calm, matter-of-fact voice is part of the charm. We're left to imagine what the objects might stand for: the half moon as a fading night, the worn door as something old and royal, the silk clock as time made soft and luxurious. The mood is whimsical, quiet, and a little mysterious.