Samantha Harper's poem is about standing at a turning point and not knowing which way to go. The speaker wants a sign, whether a green light, a star-less night sky, or the changing leaves, that it's okay to move on. The autumn trees seem to say change is coming, but the wind keeps moving and doesn't wait for her to catch up. The hint of snow suggests a deadline, as if winter is approaching and she wants answers before it arrives.
The feeling shifts as the poem goes on. She admits she is lost, then quickly adds that she isn't hopeless. What follows is a strange, numb calm: a "blue-ish" mood she can't name and doesn't have the energy to figure out. Lucid dreaming and drowning in "my own ocean" capture that sense of being half-awake and sinking without panic. The mood is quiet, drifting, and a little unsettling, because the speaker knows she probably shouldn't be so calm, yet she is.