A person spends a whole afternoon alone in a garden shed, just thinking. The title, "Retreat," tells us this is a withdrawal from the world, a small private hideout rather than a grand escape. The first three lines are plain and calm, almost like a note to oneself.
The second stanza turns more puzzling and more interesting. "Who is busy" sounds like a half-asked question, as if the speaker is wondering about everyone still rushing around outside. Then comes the odd, striking line about light being natural "for people out of power." One way to read it is that the shed's dim, quiet space suits those who have stepped back from influence or activity, and that being out of power brings its own kind of clarity. The poem doesn't spell this out, so the meaning stays open.
The mood is hushed, reflective, and a little wry. The speaker seems less defeated than quietly content to be sidelined.