Three short scenes make up this poem, each one a small moment of looking closely at a woodland. First, the speaker studies a maple's pale bark and spots a zigzag pattern like a ladder. They wonder, with a question mark, whether it's the tooth-marks of a snail. That tentative guess gives the opening a curious, gentle tone. Next, patches of moss look like green islands in a "fluttering sea" of brown leaves, and the imagery turns the forest floor into something moving and alive.
The last stanza shifts to a person. A photographer declares the cloud-filtered light perfect, and her cheeks slowly turn red. The poem doesn't say why, so we're left to guess. She may be flushed from the cold, from excitement, or from a little embarrassment at being so absorbed. Whatever the reason, the mood is quiet, attentive, and warm. The poem suggests that beauty is easy to miss unless you slow down and pay attention.