In "Handyman," the speaker finds a kind of self-knowledge in physical work. Handling objects shows him his own hand, as if the things around him were mirrors. The title suggests someone who fixes and fiddles, and the poem takes pleasure in how plain that life is: you pick something up or you set it down, and each choice follows the last with a certainty the speaker compares to blood moving through the body. Nothing needs second-guessing.
The final stanza shifts the tone. "O" is a small sigh, almost a toast, and the speaker wants to "bury the day in a glass of wine." The word "bury" is interesting: it hints at tiredness, perhaps a wish to let the day's work rest and be done with. The mood is quiet, steady and content, with a little weariness at the edge. The short lines and spare wording echo the simple, unfussy actions the poem describes.