A walker heading home hears something in the distance: hawks, calling out from far off to the east. The poem is tiny, but it holds a whole small moment of attention. The speaker doesn't see the birds or describe them. All we get is the sound, and the fact that it feels familiar.
That word "cheer" is interesting. Hawk cries are often described as sharp or piercing, but here the sound is heard as something warm, almost like a greeting or a celebration. Because the hawks are "a great way off," the cheer doesn't feel threatening. It feels like a friendly presence at the edge of the day.
The speaker seems calm and quietly glad. Judging by the phrase "that familiar sound," this isn't a rare event but a comfort the speaker recognizes, like hearing a neighbor's voice. The mood is gentle and settled, a sense of belonging in a place where you know its sounds, and of being welcomed home by them.