Dave Bonta's "Weekend" feels like a slow exhale. The speaker sits with a glass of water and imagines tomorrow as being the same clear, colorless thing: open, unwritten, waiting. Today, meanwhile, is "an instrument for perspective," a tool for stepping back and seeing one's life from a little distance.
The images that follow are modest. A wren builds a home on an "acre of nothing," which suggests the speaker's land is plain or empty, yet something living still finds a place there. At night the sun is "cleaned and oiled," as if the day's light were a piece of equipment being cared for and made ready again. The last lines, about staying among poor people as "a common blessing," seem to value ordinary shared life over wealth or status.
The mood is calm, grateful and a little humble. The speaker seems content with very little and finds quiet richness in it.