A short walk becomes a moment of looking up. The speaker is out on a morning walk, and a thought drifts in about how to keep "free ways" alive in the heart, which suggests a wish to stay open, unhurried, and unfenced by routine. The poem doesn't answer that question. Instead, the walk itself seems to offer a kind of answer.
In the field, the speaker finds the air "full of strange / and pretty things." The poem never says what they are, and that choice matters: the reader is left to feel the wonder without a label attached. The last lines stretch the view upward, "above me as far / as the rain," so the sky feels enormous, reaching to where weather begins. The mood is quiet, curious, and gently awed. Nothing dramatic happens, but the speaker seems lighter for paying attention, and the poem invites us to do the same.