Four short lines, and almost nothing in them stays still. The poem is about a tiny, flickering kind of electricity: something that crackles and darts but never turns into a real storm. "Tittle tattle" sounds like idle chatter, but it also sounds like quick little taps or sparks, so talk and electricity blur together. Then comes "little lightning / without thunder coming," a flash with no roar behind it.
The final image, "little eel," is a surprise. An eel is slippery and quick, and some can deliver a shock, so it fits the idea of a small charge moving through something. The speaker doesn't tell us how they feel, but the tone seems curious and amused, even affectionate. All those "little" words shrink the scale, so the mood is light and playful rather than threatening. It reads like noticing a small, harmless buzz of energy and enjoying how oddly it can be described.