"Confabs" is a short poem built on one playful trick: ordinary things behave like people at a social gathering. The wind "did business" in a tree, a coach "dined" with the post, and a stay (a rope or support on a ship) "had a little talk" with the ship. Each line borrows the language of polite, slightly bureaucratic conversation and hands it to something that can't speak.
The wordplay helps. "Coach" and "post" can mean travel and mail, which fits the line about where letters come. "Stay" and "ship" belong together in sailing. The poem seems to be listening for the quiet chatter already hidden in everyday words.
The last stanza shifts to "me," the only human voice. The speaker says money will "give me an answer shortly," as if money were just another party in the conversation. That ending feels wry and a little anxious, as though the speaker is waiting on a verdict. The mood is light, curious, and gently humorous, with a small worry underneath.