Woolly Bully

Woolly bully bear caterpillar
Black and brownish orange colored spiky long hair
Marching without pause to some unknown destination
Causing in your passing all manner of traffic congestion

Some from the big-hearted drivers
Who realize almost too late
What that little dark marching twig really is
Slamming on brakes or swerving in a test of fate

Others are, lets face it, assholes
Who will go out of their way to splat any living thing
Laughing maniacally at the imagined sounds that happen
As they overwhelm the limited locomotion of hoof, paw, tarsus or wing

Woolly bully bear caterpillar in my hand
Of your thirteen segments I count six
Six that make up your lovely brownish orange band
Now does that mean we will have a harsh or mild winter, or perhaps a mix?

I can't recall the exact old wives tale at this moment
Distracted as I am by your sticky little bear feet upon my hand
And the leaving of the obligatory ceremonial woolly bear poo
Popping out very daintily from your aft-most black band

I grabbed you from the center of the roadway
But I had noted your intended direction
So upon the desired side of the road I set you
And you continue upon your course with no pause for reflection

Wherever you find to pass the winter
I hope that it is a nice cozy spot
Where in the spring you can spin your soft cocoon
Then to fly away as just another incognito tiger moth

But just before I turned away
A bird swooped down and ate you without question
Woolly bully bear caterpillar
I hope you cause him indigestion