Poetry analysis question

Hi Im new Im trying to figure out among many things what the situation or context of this poem is……just the analysis in general I'm quite stuck.

Is the Pathetic Fallacy True? by Elizabeth Brewster

When I was a child
the stones were living.
Hot under my hand, they felt like flesh,
and sands slipped through my fingers
with a caress.

Yes, everything was alive:

the clumsy,roaring wind
stepped on the flounced pink dress
of the apple tree,
tearing it to shreds

the puffed cheeks of clouds
the brook with its pebbled tongue
and the hoarse old grave old sea
its gravelly song

and earth itself
a brown warm girl
turning and tanning in the sun.

All false, all wrong,
somebody told me:
Winds are not lovers,
clumsy or gentle.
There's no blood
in stones,
no tears in water.

Nevertheless
sometimes lately when I touch a chair or table
I think I feel atoms stir
under my fingers

and at night in dreams I hear
the small remote voices of grains of dust
or the inaudible whispers of stars

as they will speak to me some time
when I lie with the living grass above me
and the wind my old lover
singing me to sleep

and to wake