"Meet me at the line fence
after we pick the date
before the first snows
strand us on our farms,
over by the stretch
where we used to climb the
apple trees
when we were small"

Stefan first read the note
from Julia Eileen
at harvest time
and answered
yes, he would

a fluttered page
designing their future,
he smiled at her desire
and unneeded reminder of the place
where love had played their host

where they'd met each day,
fall through spring
and matured since first find of each other
leading to the lean over the split rail
to plant
his first kiss on her cheek,
and where, following hours of talks
they'd frolicked together,
then escorted one another hand-in-hand
to its gate
and, for the separation of winter,
hung their hearts'
farewells

the next dawn he gave his answer
he promised he'd bring the ring
she vowed she'd wear her best
and sneak across the field at night
to elope with him
a pair who'd been forbidden,
seventeen and starcrossed
by their folk
the curse of a simple difference
he from Polish Roman Catholic stock
her family with the Irish Orange Order

for old time's sake
he reviewed the plan
she'd set out on that
page of onion-skin
once fragrant from her floral scent,
words slipped beneath a doormat
so his parents wouldn't see

one more time,
twenty years too late
he took it from his vest pocket
unfolding the frayed-edged form

the wind now tossed crisp leaves
fanfare of marmelade tints,
on their final rendez-vous

the bite of chill foretold
advent of snow tonight

the parlour scented by maple logs
a-crackle in the fire
to soothe the staleness
of his parents' house
gone empty long ago

he'd decided to come home
to try to live at last

an aroma of sweet apples
returned
to some secret compartment
of his mind,
where the white petals still danced
around her hair,
her bony knees draped branches
as when he'd first watched,
a shy child looking at another child,
from over the line fence

wooden brown slatted railing,
reaching for miles
divider of two neighboring homesteads,
its start became their meeting place
since the first encounter
he'd glimpsed her
on the fields
her sun-blushed face, dimpled on both sides
she was blond and bright
singing ditties as she strolled,
arms swinging, eyes entranced,
a tomboy he would try
but never tackle
but who listened,
to his stories,
stripping daisies,
on the hillside
his Julia Eileen,
and became
his partner in the fields

too many seasons intervened
since the day he left her
waiting

he'd been forced to enlist in the Great War
no chance to say goodbye
his father whisked him off
as she prepared for their promised day

it was as if they'd been
found out

the snows fell heavy
after his departure,
he heard tell

the first Christmas Stefan was gone,
brought a buddy's note
from home

sprawled out on his bunk,
he took in the words
he'd fight
harder than any enemy overseas
words of how
he must try to forget the girl
from over, the next farm
forget his Julia Eileen

it advised him
she'd turned strange
wandering night and day
out in the bitter winds
and ice-kissed fields
dressed in her summer Sunday frock,
as if going off to church

she caught a chill
that brought pneumonia,
took her fast,
folk said she took it
from wandering
night and day,
just wandering
in the cold

up and down the stretch
at the edge of her folks' homestead
along by
the old line fence

11/07/2001