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.


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.

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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.


Saturday, December 21, 2019

Poetry: Light Rising

Light Rising

Ancient woods nestle softly,
Beneath their down of glistening snow.
Imperceptibly, the Adirondack Dome rises,
The cloaked giant ascends,
Reaching toward the North Star, shining star,
Over millions of years.
Durant’s trains are silenced now,
And the logging camps are dormant.
But the mountains live and the conifers breathe.
Chains of lakes sparkle like glittering molten glass,
Moose River Plains run wild,
Animals forage and the black bear sleeps,
Sheltering, waiting.
Pines dressed in white lacy skirts surround
Wooden Camps glowing warmly from within.
This is the season of peace,
Of hope, of continuity, of life cherished,
Of expectancy,
Of renewal by a blessed light rising,
Making all one,
As it has always done.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, December 7, 2019

Poetry: Tisquantum

Tisquantum

This country
Was born on a welcoming,
An outstretched hand,
A feeding and a fellowship.
It is a noble heritage
That transcends color and belief.
I come in peace. I rescue you.
I am your brother.
The daunting land and forest creatures
Watched and listened
And all feasted together.
This country
Was born on a welcoming.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, November 9, 2019

Poetry: Run With The Dogs

Run With The Dogs

Run with the dogs,
Through thick carpets of burnished gold leaves,
In charged air, with frost crackling at each footfall,
As sunrise shows welcome in pink.
Run with them, they beckon you.
They teach you to see, to be with joy, reveling,
Howling to the wind and sky with abandon,
Every second savored to the limit.
They live their truth,
Happily, generously, with love unconditional,
Trotting down worn Adirondack trails through ribboned creeks,
To music only they hear.
How pure are they,
Brothers of wolves, with hearts tethered to man,
Adoring, protecting, sharing precious primal freedom
And warmth of breath on chilled skin.
We, tied to them,
Follow their lead and trust instinctively, as confluent souls,
For their eyes are wiser, their understanding deeper,
Their grace, a greater mercy received.
With them, we can be wild.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, October 26, 2019

Poetry: Night Songs

Night Songs

I waken, alert,
To the songs of the dark night,
Hunkering shadow-shaped coyotes,
Mimicking, throwing plaintive howls,
Against the stark, crying vibrato
Of sleek, red-eyed jurassic loons,
They worship in tandem,
Pledging love to the spectral moon,
A timeless nocturnal duet.
Tall conifers and sleeping mountains harken,
Sheltering those calls, echoing, echoing,
Magnified across still, silver water,
Lonely sounds, proud, primitive, wild,
Undaunted,
Triumphant melodic affirmations of survival,
Of life bravely continued,
“We..are..still.. here…”, they sing,
“After all!”

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.


Saturday, October 12, 2019

Poetry: The Eye Of A Bird

The Eye Of A Bird

And so I came to a place,
Wondering what could be seen and understood,
In the eye of a bird.

Happening with unexpected connection
While walking on the moist, brown earth,
Amid scattered pine cones,
And memories.

The black eye of a pristine, hunting robin, held mine,
Pausing in her success,
Undulating worm held captive in a beak of supremely,
Pointed delicacy.

She nodded contemplatively upon her russet breast,
With wise, black eye holding mine, communicating,
Appraising, knowing, going on with her very life,
As she alone was meant to do.

This bright spirit, shining from the eye of a bird,
Pierced the doldrum of my morning and granted me
A brief, blessed epiphany of consciousness,
That touched my deepest soul.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.



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