Sunday Dinner Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Sunday Dinner



It was on an impulse I went to visit

my brothers' a fine Sunday noon,

No answer, but the door was open

I walked in food on the table, still

warm. Mary Celeste, I thought and

served myself.



Their garden looked enchanting

bushes full of red berries, I turned

on the water sprinklers and left;

heard a scream, thought it came

from their neighbour's garden and

took no notice.