Two short scenes sit side by side here, and the poem lets you work out how they connect. In the first, water has gathered in the road, and the rain seems to carry the speaker home. There's a gentle surrender in that: the speaker doesn't walk home so much as get taken there, as if the weather were a kind of guide. Home feels like something the world helps you reach.
The second part is stranger and funnier. A crooked chimney is a small flaw, a house slightly out of true, and the poem says a rose is a "good answer" to it. A rose doesn't fix anything. It simply responds with beauty and calm, and that seems to be the point. The speaker accepts imperfection without fuss.
Together, the lines create a quiet, wry, contented mood. The title, "Aphoristic," hints at the wisdom-saying feel, though the poem keeps it light and open rather than preachy.