The speaker is out walking, but their mind is stuck on a news report: COVID-19 antibodies may fade within weeks, so herd immunity looks unlikely. Worry dulls the senses, and the birdsong, which the speaker clearly knows well, barely registers. Then a deer comes bounding around the bend, trying to shake off the flies around her. The speaker freezes. The deer stops, tilts her head, and seems to weigh up what she's seeing: a person or a tall stump? She decides on stump and steps carefully around.
The moment pulls the speaker out of abstract fear and back into the physical world. Being mistaken for a stump is quietly humbling, and slightly funny. The mood is calm, observant, and a little wry. The closing short verse asks "whose road is this" and pictures a tree snake's "rootless flow," which suggests that the path belongs to the animals as much as to us. It leaves a feeling of ease with being a small part of the landscape.