A quiet wind is the whole scene here, and it feels both gentle and a little controlling. The speaker stands outdoors while the wind whispers in their ear and leaves brush against their bare legs. Those small touches leave a tingling behind, a pleasant sensation that slowly starts to feel like a hold.
The turn comes in the middle, when the speaker says they can't go and can't leave. The wind "keeps" them, and the poem suggests that if they tried to walk away, the leaves would pull them back. The short, repeated lines, especially "If I go / If I leave," sound like someone circling the same thought and not finding a way out.
The mood is calm on the surface but slightly uneasy underneath. It isn't clear whether the speaker is trapped or simply doesn't want to leave. That uncertainty is what makes the poem linger: comfort and captivity seem to be the same thing here.