The speaker has given up trying to control or predict life. "I stopped asking" suggests a period of questions that went nowhere, and the title, "Year Without," hints at something missing, though the poem never says what. Events unfold on their own, people stay or leave, and none of it matches what the speaker expected. That admission sounds tired but not bitter.
Then comes "And yet," the poem's turning point. Love still exists, but it's not the grand, dramatic kind. The speaker compares it to a slow river through sawgrass, sometimes flooded, sometimes dry. It isn't deep, but it's wide, and it's "most days enough / to float the canoe." The modest ending matters: the speaker asks for something that works, not something perfect.
The mood is quiet, steady, and a little weathered. There's loss behind it, but also acceptance and a small, hard-won gratitude for a love that keeps you moving.