The Woman of The Wind

When the sun begins to set

And the mist begins to rise

She wanders through the hills

No man is but the wise

To her, her screams are howling

Longing, for her babe

To us the winds are howling

No longer as sharp as the blade

It has been at least a hundred years

Since last we heard her speak

Since cars, and trucks, and trains have poured

New sounds in our streets

A mother's cry is no longer heard

Her sorrow is but a pecking bird

Just another nighttime sound

We will use our headphones to drown out

Eventually she caught on

Our technology, she learned

Only now she searches for her son

Through a poorly made ESP system

She may never stop her moaning

Her cries may always be heard

But one thing is for sure

I'll bet,

Her learning is frighteningly absurd.