“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!”