Three short scenes make up a quiet winter portrait. In the first, the speaker looks at snow that is thinning and sees the voles' tunnels beneath it, dark lines that look like varicose veins. The title, "Subnivean," means under the snow, so the poem begins by noticing life hidden just below the surface. The comparison to veins makes the landscape feel like an aging body.
Next comes a small domestic detail: the speaker's only garbage is coffee grounds, each morning's filter wrapped up like a shroud. It suggests a solitary, repetitive life, and the word "shroud" adds a faint note of death. The last stanza says it outright: "I miss summer." The speaker misses even the millipedes crossing the bathroom floor, which is a funny, tender choice. The mood is wistful and lonely but also wry. Winter has made the speaker long for any sign of life, however humble.