The speaker asks someone close to them to dance, worried that the chance may not come again. The couple is older now: cold nights and dry days have loosened their "once-youthful grip" and left a sunset color in their cheeks. The imagery suggests late autumn, and perhaps the later years of life, but the speaker isn't gloomy about it. They want to swing to the call of grackles and "break trail for the rain, for everything good."
The tone shifts playfully in the middle. The speaker imagines escaping the stares of "golden-haired debutantes" (young people, it seems) to whisper in a golden bed, and dreaming of fat crops of nightcrawlers, a funny, earthy kind of abundance. The last line adds a quiet twist: before any of this, they must "part from our parent oaks." The poem reads as tender and a little urgent, mixing humor, desire, and the sense that growing up or moving on means leaving shelter behind.