Another mistake–
the garden scarecrow waving
welcome all the birds

Sometimes a poem
climbs out of its loneliness
onto a rooftop

You can hardly wait to go
but when you are there
you want to get back

Sometimes in a dream
the lifetime ago returns
wearing muddy shoes

It hangs patiently
through spring and summer and fall
your old winter coat

December plods in
an old horse dusted with snow
headed for the barn

The pleasures of home
all my books in their places
even dust unmoved

Two old friends
lean their shoulders together
like empty mailboxes

Gary Busha and his press, Wolfsongs, have been around since the early 1970s. He graduated from UW-Eau Claire in 1978 with a MA in Arts. These poems were published in Selected Haiku: 2012-2014. To read more by Gary, search for his name at Volumeone.org.