The speaker wakes to a quiet, cloudy morning and at first thinks the weather is bad timing. The room feels cold and the floor creaks, so the mood starts out gloomy. Then the poem drifts into memory: boots worn out from running for the bus or running to meet a lover. These small details suggest a life that was once hurried and full of longing, and the poem hints that this has slowed down.
From the place where the speaker works, the hills are barely visible through the rain and rising fog. Instead of complaining, the speaker admits to loving a misty August. Colours look softer, almost pastel, and the days feel mysterious and endless. The closing lines make the feeling clear: the fog brings a gentle melancholy, a reminder of older summers. The mood is calm, wistful and quietly affectionate, a sadness the speaker seems to enjoy rather than resist.