Up 'the Range' there was the rescue mission that reeked of too many brandies with beer backs in a car traveling too fast. And she was there - bent rigid int he back corner of her brother's Chrysler with a sprung seat pressed up hard against a Great Blue Heron with a broken wing flapflapflapping in her screwed tight 13 year-old face. Guys with names like Buckshot or Rosebud or Ironhead were always riding along bellowing 'More-beer-goddamnit' and where were they taking this should-be-dead-by-now-animal? Another winter night the first-born, older than her by 20 years ran full speed up Sheridan Street with a dead timber wolf high in his bent arms hollering the whole time about the wonder he'd found frozen mid-lope at the side of the road. Her drunken herd of brothers demanded all attention all the time. They packed the little white house on White Street with whirling curses and chaos. She wasn't the baby they were.
Was it ever any different after she went away on that eastbound bus the day she graduated high school? Was it? She packed up and left behind all the diamond embroidered skies tea colored lakes pitch pines scale skittered fish tables slammed together with a mouthful of nails lye soap fire towers tobacco cans daddy ghosts in the fresh snow and stalactites of blood glistening in the gutted caves of deer hanging in the trees.
from Secrets From The Storm,
released May 1, 2010
Composition, Arrangement: Peg Simone
Story: Holly Anderson
Vocals, Guitars, Bass: Peg Simone
Guitar: Igor Cubrilovic