One July a number of summers ago, our little town was in the midst of a heat wave. You could see the heat haze on the streets, people became short tempered, there was violence in my neighbourhood. One afternoon I sat in my carport with my guitar sticking to me, cracked a cold beer and wrote I Wish It Would Rain.
This week's prose, Mazinaw, comes from my notes titled Remnants. I’m recalling our family vacations to Mazinaw, especially in Autumn where it’s quiet power fills me with wonder.
Fredrick Brooks - Lead Vocals/Acoustic Guitar
Joy Brooks - Harmony/Percussion
Caroline Brooks - Harmony
Katherine McKenzie - Harmony
Robbie Grunwald - Keyboards/Bass
Joey Landreth - Electric Guitar
Chris Pezzarello - Drums/PercussionRecorded and produced by Robbie Grunwald - Raven Tape Music Room and Union Sound - Chris Stringer and Darren McGill
Mastered by Justin Gray - Immersive Mastering
<Click here to listen to I Wish It Would Rain>
I Wish it Would Rain
A black road calls - calls me away
Says I’m a carefree highway - you must leave this place
Here the heat of July hammers and moans
And the vapour rises sucks the breath from home.
Sun’s burning hot - crows in the shade
It’s a bad sign a rogue moon leaves nothing but haze
Here the girls of summer slowly drift by
Under a sky so blue it could make you cry
Oh - I Wish It Would Rain
Now there’s a yellow ribbon tied where sirens moaned
A mosaic lies where all hope is gone
And in the heat of the night - temperatures rose
And the boys went down a foolish road
So send me some dark skies whisper relief
Before this town goes crazy - calls in the freaks
Before another bloody Sunday falls from the sky
Why does this witch of summer refuse to fly
Oh - I Wish It Would Rain
I got ole Mary beside me who shakes the bones
Says - “Don’t wish the day over you’ll be standing alone
These dog days of summer will soon be gone
And a harsh wind will follow and shake you down.”
Oh - I Wish It Would Rain
© Fredrick Brooks
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MAZINAW
Across the deep open water
Our canoe, like a ribbon, carves towards shore
Mazinaw
Writer - Picture
Language of the Algonquin
Wild and Primal
Water, with colours that blend into green, blue and black ink
Below my paddle, a cavernous body of moving liquid
Memories
Rain on canvas
Earthly possessions
Lichen, clinging to stone
Petroglyphs
Towering above us
A double rainbow, arches over the face of Ancient Rock
The sun spills its miracle as day falls
Two Hawks fly away into the deep horizon
Their voices, reflecting off stone
Good Echo
© Fredrick Brooks
