The Caterpillar

    “The Caterpillar,” Friend, May 1983, 22

    The Caterpillar

    I watched a fuzzy caterpillar

    Crawling across the street;

    His little body wiggled

    As he moved his many feet.

    When he hurried in a flurry,

    He moved his feelers ‘round

    And looked like an accordion

    As he slid along the ground.

    “Mr. Caterpillar, what’s your hurry?

    Can’t you see the sun’s still high?”

    “Yes, it is, but I won’t see it

    If a car comes rolling by!”