Light in the eastern sky has turned

from red to gold in the hour we’ve been

standing here with Frank, waiting for the train

to take him back to camp. Emma looks at her brother

as if she thinks he’s already been to war and is returning

home a few feet taller, covered in ribbons and medals. She

stands on tiptoe and kisses him on the cheek, then folds her

hands around his arm. (For a look like that from Emma, I’d

roam the earth, swim across oceans and fight lions.) Muriel

has not yet said goodbye. Looking up at Frank, she says,

You don’t always have to be the hero. You stay safe now!

Commanding him with such ferocity that he jokes,

Come here and say that. And when she does,

right in front of everyone, he kisses her!

Circles for the Crossing Stones / June 1917

Circles for the Crossing Stones

June 1917

Would You Be Willing? / Muriel

Would You Be Willing?

Muriel

Look, Mama—Papa forgot his lunch—

Ollie’s over at the Normans’, helping

with the planting—I’ll hitch up the horses

and take this to Papa at the lumberyard.

It’s good to be out on this warm day,

half an hour into town, and half an hour back,

time to think my own thoughts, sing to the horses,

wave to men out in the fields—though lately

half the people in the fields are women,

and at the lumberyard, six women, wearing overalls,

are working just as hard as men. They’re filling in

for men who have been drafted, Papa tells me.

All the way home, and all afternoon, I think about

applying for a job myself—I’d earn some money, and

it’s considered “the patriotic thing to do” these days.

But at supper, Mama tells us she has decided to go to work

at a shop in town. The bookkeeper was drafted,

and the manager asked Mama to help out

“for the duration”—that’s the phrase they’re using, to avoid

having to say “war.” (No one knows, of course, how long

the duration will be.) Muriel, would you be willing

to take care of Grace and help with the housework?

“Help with the housework”—ironing and mending,

washing dishes, cooking, milking, churning, mopping.

And, oh yes, “take care of Grace,” as if that’s

a little thing you do when all the other work

is finished. Mama and I together are barely

keeping up with everything; I don’t see how

I’ll do it all myself. But this is not a question.

It’s a request that will define my days—

for the duration. Grace shines a little grin

my way when Mama turns her back—

no doubt thinking of some mischief

I’ll allow that Mama wouldn’t.

The Gentleman Should Always / Muriel

The Gentleman Should Always

Muriel

Grace draws a picture: our two houses with the creek