The poem follows a walk, or perhaps a search, along a small stream as it slips into a larger river. Plummer's Hollow Run runs "half underground" before it joins the Little Juniata, and the speaker seems fascinated by how modest and hidden that meeting is. There's no road sign. The name "Little Juniata" is enough to feel like a whole river, as if language itself could carry the water.
Then the poem turns wry and a little humble: "it's not easy to find / the middle of nowhere." The speaker admits that even nowhere takes effort to reach. The short, spare lines mimic the quiet of the place.
The ending lands with a jolt. After the odd words "coda" and "self-check," the speaker finds a tick burrowed in. "Self-check" reads as the routine of checking your body after time outdoors. The mood is calm and contemplative, then suddenly physical: nature isn't just something to admire, it gets under your skin, literally.