A person finishes whatever they were doing indoors and steps out into the garden at night. That small, ordinary moment is the whole scene, but the poem makes it feel larger. The phrase "business done" suggests the day's tasks are behind them, and the garden becomes a place where they can simply be.
The garden is "green and dark," and it seems to prompt "questions of travel": where have I been, where am I going? The answers don't come as plain statements. They arrive "in words of night," so the darkness itself seems to speak, in a way that is felt more than understood. The closing comparison, "like a lover or a church," points to intimacy and reverence at once. The speaker seems calm and quietly moved. The mood is hushed, private and a little sacred, as if the familiar back garden has turned into somewhere that listens.