The speaker describes stopping with friends at a branch, or small stream, on the way to a hill. They stash their things under an osage tree, take off shoes and stockings, and wade in. The pleasure comes from close, physical details: sand that bites at the feet, a rock where the waterfall spills, foam rushing over toes. There are water spiders that feel hard and cool to the touch, wiggletails darting around, and minnows in a pool. Even the shallow, nearly dry spots get attention, with hot broken rocks and a small current hurrying past. The speaker’s voice is full of curiosity and quiet delight, noticing each small thing without hurry. The mood is warm and nostalgic, like a summer afternoon remembered from childhood, when a simple stream could be a whole world worth exploring.
The Branch — Summary
We stopped at the branch on the way to the hill. We stopped at the water a while and played. We hid our things by the osage tree And took off our shoes and stockings to wade.
There is sand at the bottom that bites at your feet, And there is a rock where the waterfall goes. You can poke your foot in the foamy part And feel how the water runs over your toes.
The little black spiders that walk on the top Of the water are hard and stiff and cool. And I saw some wiggletails going around, And some slippery minnows that live in the pool.
And where it is smooth there is moss on a stone, And where it is shallow and almost dry The rocks are broken and hot in the sun, And a rough little water goes hurrying by.