Saturday, January 18, 2020

Poetry: Winter Dreams

Winter Dreams

I am so far away from you now, so far South,
Wondering how heavily laden your boughs are,
Wondering how your myriad of trout and bass swim
Under the thick lake ice, dotted with ice-fishermen.
No, I’m not with you in the harshness of winter,
But I am with you always, in my spirit.
I imagine the Currier and Ives quaintness of Inlet,
Of Old Forge’s magical hardware emporium,
I see hardy families sitting down, together, to the steaming food
That sustains them throughout bitter days and nights.
I see flickering, amber light, dancing from every frosted window,
As piquant scents of gray wood-smoke curl bravely
From weathered, creosote-tarred chimneys.
I see the deep ‘crow’s-foot’ crosshatching of snowmobile tracks,
Etched on streets, dirt paths and two-lane roads that blend together
Like lovers.
And then, at last, I hear the slow, sonorous breath of the deep woods,
Sleeping beneath nature’s coverlet of pristine, eider-down.
All this, all this, and so much more,
Is in my winter dreams of you, little Camp of my heart.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.

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Annette Pisano-Higley is a Registered Nurse living in both Albany and Florida. She is a published song-lyricist and published a book of her original Adirondack poetry, with photography by her husband Walter Higley, Adirondack Echoes, available on Amazon.com. Annette’s book was inspired by their idyllic summers at the beloved family Camp on Limekiln Lake, Inlet, in the beautiful New York State Adirondack Park.


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7 Responses

  1. Suzanne says:

    That’s a lovely poem, Annette. Soon it will be Spring again and you’ll be back to your camp. I dream of my camp also, shuttered now for the Winter, and know that it is only mine for four months– after that the mice, voles, squirrels, chipmunks and other small critters move in and the deer browse in our field undisturbed by loud noises. My husband, also a poet, once said “What do you think the House is thinking when we’re not here?” Thoughts of snow, warm burrows, and stored peanuts.

    • Annette Pisano-Higley says:

      Great thoughts Suzanne! You and your husband are exactly right I thank. Glad you enjoyed this and thank you for your read and words.

      • Suzanne says:

        Thank you, Annette. My husband Paul, Irish poet and passionate lover of the Adirondacks, passed away thirty years ago at age 42, and his ashes are buried in the Keene Valley cemetery near all the old folks he revered. I and some poet friends are slowly putting together a book of his poetry. When it’s finished I’ll send a copy to you, if you’d like.

  2. Jim says:

    Thank you, Annette.

  3. Ed Zahniser says:

    Easy to identify with that poem! Very nice, thanks

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