The speaker is lying awake, or at least waiting, while a storm rages outside. The poem is a string of questions, and none of them gets an answer. Many are practical: will the trampoline hold, will the lamppost hit the car, will the roof tiles stay put. The wind howls, the turbines hum, the traffic drags on. These are the ordinary worries of someone watching the weather and counting what could go wrong.
But the questions slowly change. "Will the sun come out tomorrow" sounds hopeful, and then the poem asks whether tomorrow will even arrive. The last line, "Will this be the last moment we have," drops the everyday concerns and shows what the speaker has been afraid of all along.
The mood is anxious and tense, with a quiet dread underneath. The short, flat lines, ended with full stops instead of question marks, feel like worries repeating in the mind. The storm seems to be both a real event and a way of showing how fragile everything feels.