The Mind Is an Enchanting Thing
Nothing happens in this poem.
For realsies, Shmoopers, that's the truth. This poem does not tell a story. In other words, it's not like, "Susie went to the store, bought a pound of gumdrops, ate them, then went to bed with a doozy of a stomachache."
Rather, this poem is a meditation on the mind. Through a series of images, Moore flexes her creative muscles to compare the mind to all kinds of things: insects, birds, musicians, and even gyroscopes.
Then it ends. Because nothing happens in this poem.