The title, "Incipient," means just beginning, and the poem stays right at that edge. It opens with a question that sounds half-lost: who knows how to begin? Nobody answers it. Instead we get a quick image of a garden that is "ringing and pretty," as if the place itself were chiming, bright and a little unreal.
Then the speaker turns to New Year's and asks who it is actually useful to. That question has a slightly wry, doubtful tone. The holiday promises a fresh start, but the speaker isn't sure the promise helps anyone.
The last two lines offer a "new invention" and "a noon at night." The second image is a puzzling one: brightness where darkness should be, a day arriving in the wrong hour. It could suggest the odd light of a new beginning, or the way a fresh start feels both thrilling and disorienting. The mood is curious, uncertain, and quietly playful, more interested in wondering than in settling on an answer.