The Green Lady
Day and night the Green Lady walks by my window blaring strange music out of her radio. Hurdy gurdy. Sitar. Shakulute. Kazoo. Glockenspiel.
The singer of the songs croons a language I can’t identify. At times it seems to be of Asian origin. At others, Middle Eastern. Always it sounds far away and subterranean, like someone singing from the depths of a cave.