A speaker sits somewhere out in open country, drinking by themselves, in a place where a flock of birds (or perhaps sheep, since the poem doesn't say) has recently disturbed the fields. The scene is quiet and a little scruffy, marked by whatever the flock has left behind. Then the last two lines give the poem its turn: the speaker is glad to see the town "way in the distance."
The gladness is the key feeling. It isn't loneliness the speaker is escaping but company, or at least the pressure of crowds and streets. Seeing the town far off works almost like a landmark, which fits the title, "Reference point." It reminds the speaker where they are, and also how comfortably far they've come from it.
The mood is calm, wry and content. The short lines move slowly, like sips, and the plain language keeps everything relaxed. Solitude here feels chosen, even a small pleasure, and the distant town makes it sweeter.