The poem is a small, odd encounter. The speaker is startled by a wren, and then a drunk man appears, standing beside what the poem calls his "life of prophesy." He holds up a lock and, with the care you'd give something precious, a pin. The title, "Pick," suggests the pin is meant as a lockpick, though the poem never says so outright.
What I take from it is a mix of surprise and quiet tenderness. The speaker doesn't seem to judge the man. Instead, the poem treats his offering as strangely meaningful. A drunkard who claims or embodies prophecy is easy to dismiss, yet he is shown with a lock and the tiny tool that might open it, almost like a riddle. The wren, a small and sudden bird, adds to the feeling that something ordinary has briefly become charged with meaning.
The mood is hushed, a little mysterious, and gently humorous. The short lines and sparse wording make the moment feel like a glimpse rather than a story, leaving us to wonder what the lock might open.