Answer:
It's September, late evening, and it's sprinkling out. A grandma and her granddaughter are inside making a bite and some tea. To kill some time while the water bubbles, they read the chronological registry and make jokes out of what they find. Despite the fact that the grandma is chuckling, it appears she is vexed about something, since she's endeavoring to shroud her tears.
Now, both the grandma and the grandkid appear to vanish into their very own private musings. The grandma figures how her pity may be associated with the season, and the tyke is occupied by the buildup shaping on the tea pot. While the grandma cleans up—hanging the chronological registry back on its string, putting more wood on the stove—the kid draws an image of a house and a man "with buttons like tears" to show to her grandmother.
The poem finishes in a quite creative manner, with the chronicle dropping fanciful moons from its pages into the blossom bed of the child's illustration, at that point saying "time to plant tears"; the grandma singing to the stove, and the kid drawing another scrawl of a house with her pastels.