A speaker walks through an overgrown field, a place that already feels worn out and a little lonely. The "turnstiles" are an odd detail: they suggest gates or checkpoints, as if even this empty ground has something to pass through. Then the wind arrives "alone / with no good message," and the mood is bare and slightly uneasy, like a day with nothing to offer.
The turn comes with "one toke." Taking a drag of a joint (that's what "toke" means) changes how the speaker sees things. Suddenly there is a "dark nest," a cozy, hidden place of shelter, and the day gets "new fur." That last image is the sweetest in the poem: the flat, cold afternoon becomes warm, soft and animal. The speaker doesn't seem to be escaping the world so much as growing a coat against it. The mood shifts from empty and chilly to quietly comforted, and the short lines keep that relief light and a little playful.