The speaker is out on a walk, searching for beechdrops, a plant with plain, easily overlooked stalks. The poem moves the way a walker does: the road dips, the stream drops away, and the ground opens into a deepening ravine. Small details sit in their own lines, so we seem to notice them one at a time, with the speaker. Even the quibble over "hollow or holler?" feels like a bit of idle thought that comes while walking.
Then the eye turns upward to trees stretched thin as they reach for the sky. The musclewood, a tree whose name suggests strength, stands on its own line like a pause. The last line, "I was that skinny once," is a sudden, wry personal note. The speaker sees a younger self in the slender trunks. The mood is quiet, attentive and gently humorous, with a small touch of nostalgia for a body and a time that have changed.