You can read this poem here.
I love this poem for its celebration of the uncelebrated, its honouring of the unglamorous; and for its reminder that the exalted and the everyday are connected. The details are so well-chosen—planting bulbs, paying the milkman, answering letters—and the extended metaphor in the final stanza so lightly and deftly done. I don’t think it matters whether your Atlas is one person who does all these things, or a team of precious people who unite to ‘keep [your] suspect edifice upright in air’. Whoever it is, they do a good and godly thing. Praise them.