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BellaOnline Literary Review
Out of the Mist by Verne L. Thayer

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Wooly Bear Fair

Lee Evans

The Wooly Bears came out to feed,
And crept across the road.
They climbed upon the grass and trees,
Pursued by hungry crows—
The reason why their rate of speed
Was anything but slow.

The blacktop was a boon to them;
They made much better time
Than when they stumbled through the glen,
Across the frosty rime.
The trucks and cars slowed down and then
Just sat and watched the line.

The caterpillars slued their hips
Upon my window sash,
And pressed the panes with noses’ tips:
What place in there to crash?
I found one on my upper lip,
Disguised as a mustache.

As one played Scrabble in my soup,
Among the alphabet,
Another at my front door stooped
Upon the welcome mat—
Well knowing that his doorbell ruse
Was sure to make me fret.

Those Woolies sure put on a show,
But soon they disappeared.
No crossing guard or keen-eyed crow
Could spot them anywhere.
But look: they sprouted wings and flew,
As Tigers of the air!