Almost everything in this poem arrives as a question. The speaker never states a view outright. Instead, they ask whether you'd be surprised by the pieces that make up daydreaming: the "tools for patience," the missteps, the habit of filling empty spaces "until the right thing happens." It sounds like a description of how people work through a creative problem, though the poem never says so directly.
Then the focus shifts outward to nature. Brown and gray, sunlight, cloud, rain, elm and maple trees, and wind all seem to settle into "stillness," while humans give off their own restless vibrations. The speaker seems to see people and the natural world as tuned to different rhythms.
The ending turns on the title. Deciding what to leave out, the speaker suggests, matters as much as deciding what to put in. The mood is quiet, curious, and reflective. The poem itself is full of gaps and unfinished thoughts, so it practices what it describes.