Each pair of lines in this poem is a quick snapshot of a day at the edge of late summer, seen by someone paying close attention. The speaker catches a sudden smell of night-blooming cereus in the middle of the night, then wakes after poor sleep to find a spider's web strung across the door. Nothing dramatic happens. A peach is half spoiled, so the speaker eats the good half quickly, as if hurrying before it turns too.
The mood is quiet, a little tired, and very observant. There's a hint of unease in the broken sleep and the distant storm, and the migrating birds blown around the yard suggest things in motion, passing through. But the ending lifts the tone. The speaker notices blue-and-white berries and then a blue-and-white warbler above them, an echo that feels like a small gift. The poem seems to say that attention to ordinary things can be its own reward.