Two short images, both from a walk through wild country. In the first, the speaker is picking blueberries at the edge of a swamp forest, and the trees seem to close in around the bucket, as if the woods were holding the harvest too. The second moves to a blackberry patch, where the speaker notices the hidden hollows where deer have bedded down. These are places an animal would choose precisely because no one sees them.
The speaker doesn't announce any big feeling. Instead the poem shows a person paying close attention, moving slowly, and being let in on small secrets. There is a gentle sense of sharing the place with other creatures rather than owning it. Picking fruit and finding deer beds sit side by side as if equally ordinary and equally precious.
The mood is hushed, patient, and a little tender. The title, "Trickle of a creek," adds a thin thread of sound and water behind everything, making the scene feel even quieter.