The Homestead

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Standing outside their cottage
a wide hipped middle aged woman,
her fleshy arms were folded under her blue apron,
looking at her husband who,
seated on the bench was pale, thin and had watery blue eyes
of one suffering a terminal illness.
He hadn’t long to go now
and she had to swallow hard
thinking how much she was going to cry at his funeral.
Since her husbands illness the land lay fallow
and she had sold the cattle
only had chickens left and a few pigs,
she could manage that,
had to tend to them now,
but first she had to put him to bed
or he would go wandering off
perhaps down to the brook and drown.
Mind, that wouldn’t be the worse useless as he is now
She bit her lips shocked by her own thoughts,
but she did want to sell their little farm
and move nearer a town once he was!
she didn’t finish her thoughts.
Took him by his hands and said:
“Come now Carl it’s time for your nap,”
he smiled up to her like a child
and her heart ached with love for him.