"Loner" is a short, spare poem about living alone and what that life gives back. The opening line is bleak: the speaker's wages are ash, as if all the effort of a life has turned to something burnt and weightless. Then comes a plain statement, "my being much alone," which sounds more like an admission than a complaint.
The second part shifts to learning. Like any art that children learn, the poem suggests, the heart's one real task is something we pick up slowly through practice. The odd twist is the ending: that business will "in time be / the present." The line break leaves the word hanging, so it could mean being fully here, in the moment, or it could hint at a gift.
The mood is quiet, resigned, and a little hopeful. Loneliness isn't dressed up as tragedy or triumph. Instead, the speaker seems to find that being alone might teach attention to the present, and that this is a skill worth learning.