I wrote this song in 1978 - with changes through to the mid 90s. I rewrote some of the lyrics leaving the guitar the same, recently adding subtle instrumentation - I have a warm spot in my heart for this song.
Late Autumn - Innisfil Beach, 12th line, Lake Simcoe.
I remember that day vividly. I was sitting on a rock overlooking Lake Simcoe when Mary, my artist confidant, stopped for a chat. She was light-hearted and left me to my youthful sadness. I’d spent the summer in our run-down family cottage writing songs and she was my sounding board.
The last leaves were falling, the waves were high, and a swallow crashed into the rocks and died. The night was approaching and I could feel winter was near.
I left a part of myself back there that day.
It was a time of change, a realization that life would never be the same.
Fredrick Brooks - Guitars, Bass Guitar, Keyboards, Harmonica
Chris Pezzarello - Drums
Produced by Fredrick Brooks
Written by Fredrick Brooks
Click here to listen to Winter's on the Rise
Winter’s On The Rise
Laugh, laugh old Mary
The fighter swallow's taken his life
I’ve been to the waterfront
And winter’s on the rise
The wind has whipped the white crowns
Pebbles argue on the shore
And the sky looks sad in the pale moonlight
Blow on winter wind - I hear your call
The leaves like passengers
Nod their heads in slow release
And I’m the poet with no words to stand
This night will hold no peace
So laugh, laugh old Mary
The fighter swallow's taken his life
I’ve been to the waterfront
And winter’s on the rise
©Fredrick Brooks
I was reflecting on how many ways I could be truant from school. Across the field from my home, there was an abandoned concrete silo that provided me sanctuary. Silo will be in my next collection - Remnants
SILO
The dark birds were circling
As I left the old river
Saint John was calling
The sting of his leather
Left salt on the wounds of my soul
The ‘holy’ one
Before me
Blocking my path
I was caged.
Yet I had the silo
My abandoned rocket
Across the open field
Sanctuary stood
Up the steel spoke ladder
Up and up I climbed
Into a room of sun and shadow
With a bed of biblical straw
Here, I passed the hours
With the bliss of truancy
As pigeons cooed in the high rafters.
© Fredrick Brooks 2024