The speaker is out hiking, and the poem opens with a nice twist: the view in front of him is the same one he uses as his laptop's wallpaper. A hawk hangs in the air where his app icons usually sit, so the real world seems to replace the digital one. From there the poem slows down and pays attention to small things: a woodpecker knocking, a hissing wind, roots at eye level, acorns thudding to the ground.
The mood is quiet, curious and contented. The speaker drifts into an idea, that time may not pass at all and that we are the ones moving through it, then admits that such thoughts "make sense on foot." In the last section he is back on his porch with his feet up, leaning together "like two old drunks," a funny, affectionate image. The poem ends on a wren's song, as if the speaker's mind has gone still enough to just listen.