Rocky, Rocky,

can you tell me what you think?

I know you can’t, I do,

but I sometimes can’t help

watching you, out in your pasture,

and wondering.

Can you tell me what you are thinking?,

Do you miss the loving woman,

with whom you lived for so many years?

Can you tell me if you know that she is gone?

If you sense your age,

your time coming, too?

Can you tell if you are proud that, you kept your contract,

your part of the bargain? So faithfully.

Do you think of me? Of Maria?

Do you ride your spirit through the grass,

along the fence? And dance in the dark and wind?

Can you tell me that?

Do you wait for us? Notice us?

Can you let me know if you are brave, as you seem,

and accepting?

Is this so? When so much of life  around me is gone,

and in shadow.

Can you tell me if you feel the brush, along your neck?

Do you know that you can’t see, but only smell, and feel?

Can you say what you think when you look up at the farmhouse,

and see the sun

coming through Florence’s glass and lamps,

and the gate she came through to walk to you,

do you see her in your mind?

Will you meet her in another place?

Can you hear her spirit echo through the pasture,

see her reflection on the rain that falls on the big trees,

on the flowers,

in her voice calling out to you on the wind.

Rocky, Rocky, can you tell me what you think?