Three short lines, one small scene: sun shining on puddles. Nothing happens beyond that, and that's the point. The poem asks you to stop and look at something most people walk past or step around.
Puddles usually mean rain has just passed, so the poem quietly suggests a before and after. The gray, wet weather is over, and what's left is brightness reflected in the places the water gathered. The poem never says this outright, so it's an inference from the image, but it's an easy one to make.
The speaker doesn't announce a big feeling. Instead, the calm, simple wording suggests quiet pleasure, the kind you get from noticing something ordinary looking beautiful. The line breaks help. Each phrase sits alone, so you read slowly, almost one glance at a time. "Puddles" lands last, small and plain, with the light resting on it.
The mood is peaceful, fresh, and gently hopeful, like the moment after a storm when everything feels washed clean.