Almanack Contributor Annette Pisano-Higley

Annette Pisano-Higley

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.


Thursday, September 24, 2020

RBG (Ruth Bader Ginsburg)

RBG (Ruth Bader Ginsburg)

Tiny warrior standing tall,

Brooklyn girl, notorious,

Ahead of her time,

Ahead of her ‘place’,

Fearless woman,

Standing for the oppressed.

» Continue Reading.


Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Poetry: Survivalist Wife or “How Much Am I Worth?

Survivalist Wife or “How Much Am I Worth?

So this is me in Survivalist Mode,

I’m “Everywoman” in my abode,

From dawn ’till dusk just like a machine,

Keeping family safe while in quarantine.

Thank God I’m a nurse, it helps so much,

When managing meds, flu vaccines and such.

» Continue Reading.


Monday, August 10, 2020

Poetry: Center

Center

Tiny circle,

Center,

Living in us all,

Outlined in hopes and dreams,

Called by infinite names

Known well, by each keeper.

Tiny circle,

Now shot through with arrows,

Begs mending of its torn edges,

Begs smoothing of the marksman’s ravaging.

Tiny circle,

Center,

Living in us all,

Hold tightly to its clarity and peace,

Like a lake reflecting the sun’s path.

Think of wholeness.  Of wounds that heal.

Shore up the tiny circle,

Bright circle of promise,

That still lives,

In us all.

 

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Thursday, July 30, 2020

Poetry: Tiny Circle

Tiny Circle

Take photos
Of beauty that exists,
Despite worldly ills and evils.

Preserve the image
Of what is,
Of what was given.

The beams from a lighthouse, reach out
To capture hue, light-play, texture,
Of the moving ocean,
As though trapping it in a fragile bottle
For one tenuous, exquisite moment.
The lens of an eye, like one of glass,
Remembers.

Quickly, jot down a thought
Before it is lost
In a sullen mist.

Quickly, etch a memory
Before it wafts away
In crashing waves.

Quickly, write it all
On the head of a pin,
And hope upon hope
That someone will read about
The beauty that was..Someday.

 

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, July 11, 2020

Poetry: Daisy Chains

Daisy Chains

Please peek you out, my fairy friend,

From that hiding place of leaves.

Under the buttercups you dance,

Beneath the age old eaves.

Bells of bright petals wreath your hair,

And ferns hem your lacy dress.

Twin fawns kiss you with their warm breath,

While doe kneels down to bless.

In childhood did you come to me,

And brushed away all the tears.

We laughed and skipped with fireflies,

To notes just we could hear.

I never told a soul about,

Our gold and glorious days.

With mauve-lit dells and make believe,

Those things a child would say.

I search and try to seek you out,

Let us weave more daisy chains.

Remember me… I have not changed,

And take my hand again.


Saturday, June 13, 2020

Poetry: Downpour

Downpour

Downpour,
The sibilance of the storm
Sings softly.
Sheets of sound muffle crashes.
Tears are in the rain,
As is celebration,
Warm mother’s milk flows,
Purifying, fortifying,
The torrent insulates and inspires.
This is the simplicity of the beginning of things.
How elemental is this paradigm,
Things are nurtured because they exist,
Things exist because they are nurtured.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Poetry: When Will Life Be Gentle Again?

When will life be gentle again?

When will the ethers embrace us once more,

Kiss our upturned faces,

Forgive us our simple pleasantries, our playfulness,

Our innocence, our childishness, our embraces,

Our spontaneity, our casual fearlessness,

Our joy.  All we took for granted.

When will life be gentle again?

Have we used up all our chances?

Did we believe we had a finite number?

God, how much more do we stand to lose

If we do not change now, turn our faces

To a different, harder path,

But a path no less.

When will life be gentle again?

Please save our children, do not let their green shoots,

Wither and die, in this cold.

Please do not reap our elders too soon, and alone,

They are the source of our knowledge and our grace.

Do not allow this bitter wind to use us as a killing field

When will life be gentle again?

 

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Sunday, May 10, 2020

Poetry: My Harbor

My Harbor

A bottomless moat between us widens like a sea wall,
Against the waves that threaten.
I cry raindrops, in a city cordoned like a stone cage,
Impenetrable.
“Help me!”, I cry out.
Your answer echoes softly, “I am here.”,
So faintly, so faintly,
Wistful words floating through the burdened air,
Dangerous ether kept at bay, at a distance,
Only by distance.
Like a ship stranded in a windless ocean,
I cannot raise my sails, I cannot find my course,
I cannot navigate,
Until you speak again, “I am here.”
True North, true North, you are my harbor.
Sweetest breeze plays upon my face, pure,
As I see your light breaking through the bleakest of mist,
To light my way home, and I know
I am saved.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, April 25, 2020

Poetry: Learn

Learn

My plane is not yet spirit,
I am in flux, always,
Fighting between body and soul.
The sultry air calms me,
Reminds me,
To always
Look up.
Surely you can find your way,
Wind whispers in my ear.
Watch how birds traverse the wild sky,
Mind to mind, they are linked,
Over miles,
Keeping pace
As one.
Butterflies speak in soft tongues,
Imparting lessons learned.
Though their breadth of life may be brief,
They live colors of hope,
Taking all,
And giving all
They are.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Sunday, April 19, 2020

Poetry: Mommy Is Always With You

Mommy Is Always With You

Inspired by parents, healthcare workers and first responders, who have paid the ultimate sacrifice in these hard times.

Easter  bunnies and Easter chicks,
May peep from your pillow quite changed.
No Easter egg hunts will we see for awhile,
But, mommy is always with you, my child.

Bunny ears are hand-sewn and stitched,
Next year you will have them brand new.
Colored paper is grass in a home-made style,
And, mommy is always with you, my child.

Let me hold you so very  close,
Let me keep you away from harm.
Together we’ll bake bread and play ‘till we smile,
Yes, mommy is always with you, my child.

At end of day, our prayers we pray,
As I put my baby to sleep
Though we both may never forget this hard trial,
Your mommy was always with you, my child.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Monday, April 13, 2020

Poetry: Beyond This Moment

Beyond This Moment

Over wires and wavelengths, searching for a spark…
Connecting…losing connection..Ground Control, we have a problem…
Cowering, grasping the frayed edges of a receding world,
Watching it flounder in an apocalyptic ebb-tide of grief, hubris, delusion…
The bitter cold of it gnawing our bones.
Brother, can you spare a word?  Brother, can you spare a touch?
Not safe, not yet, nor knowing when that yet may be.
Building towers and moats that imprison insidiously,
Until precious thoughts cannot climb to an open window,
Grappling, we tether loved ones to our breathless bodies,
To float them, as the ark is filled with holes,
Pleading, “If we die, even though we die, let us die… Not. Alone.”
Tired hands break the water, submerge, then rise again to prove,
That hope lives.
We hold tightly to each other over airwaves, and in numbers, find strength.
Our hearts believe the promise of salvation, given to us in blood.
We are loved. We are forgiven.  We are.. “Not. Alone”.
A dove flies above us, carrying a green branch in its mouth.
It sings a sweet song and its music gives purchase in the rising storm.
We are children of a higher grace.  We are part of a divine plan.
We are stronger than this and We. Can. Survive…Beyond this moment.

 

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Sunday, April 5, 2020

Poetry: For Marion Higley

For Marion Higley

Light-filled woman, she,
College-taught and Bishop’s wife,
Baptized on a worn, porcelain-metal table
In a plank house on the edge of pine woods.
Woman of tenderness, she,
Washing sand from the sun-warmed limbs of
Three fair daughters and a wheaten-haired baby son,
With hand-pumped well-water in a porcelain sink-basin,
While scented sun motes danced around their heads,
And laughter floated out across the rippling lake.

» Continue Reading.


Saturday, February 29, 2020

Poetry: Awakening

Awakening

Secret snows lulled the latent landscape,
A hush of ice, like frosted silver quartz,
Grew gently over the lake, sealing it safely,
While silent evergreens watched, and waited,
Because they knew, and they believed.
In a longer minute, warming winds whispered
Across this virginal canvas, painting strokes of green,
Smidges and smudges of tender shoots and blades,
Into a laced latticework, upon its expectant shores.
Because they knew, and they also believed.
At once, molten, crystal rivulets began to weave and weft,
Down slumbering white-capped peaks,
Tumbling and crashing into the mighty, mother Hudson.
The North Country awakened to its living Spring, afresh,
Because it knew, and always believed.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, February 8, 2020

Poetry: Iniquity

Iniquity

So many snows ago.
Deer-tracks marked a journey,
Tear-tracks marked a journey,
As train-tracks grew cold, collected rust, and families
Moved away, never to return.
Too hard to forage, for man and beast alike.
So came this fight for survival, dictated more and more
By the dollar, Almighty Dollar,
Killing life, killing jobs, killing hope,
Pandering for spoils, preying on the innocent,
Robbing the future.
Northern Lights,
How you still explode the sky to silhouette the beauty
Of these mountains,
The power,
With North Star guiding ever true.
We cry to see your light dimmed by such vast iniquity,
Illuminating once-fertile bowers, callously raided.
Helplessly, we stand in the rough-shod, abandoned tracks
Of our forbears,
To inherit an ominous fruition.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


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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