





































POETRY 
THE 2010 ANALECTA 

Postcard [addressed to the New Year] 
lee SCOlT-GREEN 

From here, I write where I find myself, 
stirring red lentils and artichoked hearts. 

Have these four weeks 
strengthened my resolve to endure? 

The moon smiles. Like you, 
it is new and I found 
"auld lang syne" on the floor 
of my four-wheel drive 

in need of tape and smoothing. 

My honest weigh-ins hold the 
truth of the matter, 
a pound, let go. 

Taking, not just measurements, but also 
note of the place where the 
sunrise moves farther north, each 
day longer. 

Opened gifts from my son, my Marine, 
my Reiki hands held a blue silk fan 
as my tears fell on a bonsai tree from Okinawa, 
and I watched Obama 's oath grace the inaugural news. 

72 

Was the bagpiper's droning, for my 
heard across the creek from where I 

On Oak Ridge near my father's star 
soldiers lined the way through the c 
And the chaplain spoke of honor 

and hope. 



Was the bagpiper's droning, for my cousin's son, 
heard across the creek from where I stood? 

On Oak Ridge near my father's stone, 
soldiers lined the way through the deep snow. 
And the chaplain spoke of honor 
and hope. 

THE 2010 ANALECTA 

73 


