The poem sits in a moment of suspense. The speaker senses that something is about to happen, but admits no one can say what. The second stanza turns the idea around: "There's nobody to know, / There is never no thought." It's a slightly dizzy line, as if the mind can never be fully blank, even when nothing is there to do the thinking.
Then the poem zooms in on a small, strange scene. Something is "slowly pulling itself together" in an empty car parking lot, a place that feels bare and in-between. The mind is "incomplete," and the weight of a feather suggests this forming thing is barely there, light and fragile. The title, "Crackles," fits that sense of faint, flickering energy, like static before a signal arrives.
The mood is quiet, uncertain and a little eerie, but not frightening. The last line, "that state won't last forever," leaves a mix of anticipation and mild unease. Change is coming, even if the speaker can't name it.