In the Silence

The long and pitted gravel driveway leads to a house
Sitting on a slight hill just past the old cow barn
That contains the empty stalls that once housed the horses
Whose whinnies are still heard on the breeze of memories,
Whose hoofs are still heard in the, now, overgrown pasture
Where they ran-off the winters’ cold, refusing the barn,
And where on hot summer days ate cool apples
Freshly fallen from the tree that still drops reminders
Of the times their whinnies answered the, now, absent dog
Whose barking was a play bell for the cat that lived there,
And whose sleeping-pillow can still be found in the house
Where a woman is peering out of the front window
Trying to spot the Redheaded Woodpecker, she hears,
Tapping out the, hollow, echoes of her memories.