Bonta's short poem looks back on a storm and finds something oddly cheerful in it. The speaker remembers "the green time of the storm," that strange, tinted light that can come before or during heavy weather, and says it "had the greatest weather." It's a pleasingly odd phrase, as if bad weather could be a prize to rank and admire.
The middle lines turn to silence, which the speaker pictures as an animal that belongs to winter air: something cold, still, and perhaps a little wary. Rain is the opposite. Its constant noise gives the speaker room, and in the last lines the rain becomes "home to my voice." The speaker doesn't feel shut in by the storm. They feel at ease in it, as though the sound of water lets them speak or think freely.
The mood is quiet, appreciative, and a bit playful. It's a small celebration of being at home in wet, noisy, changeable weather.