Copyright by Merle R. Berry 1996
Woolly Bear
Woolly bear, woolly bear
Tell me a tale,
Will winter come in with a gust
And a gale?
A north wind that blankets
The meadows with snow
That piles up on branches
And bends them down low?
Or will it come softly
On tiptoe at night,
A solitary snowflake
Spiraling earthward in flight?
Woolly bear, woolly bear
Spin me a yarn,
Will winter come harshly
And howl round the barn,
Blowing through chinks
Of black wooden beams old,
Make the horse twitch his mane
To shake off the cold?
Or will it come gently
In a quiet snowfall
That muffles and hides
Every silent footfall?
Look at my back-
It will give you a sign
A clue to the weather
That's coming in time.
The riddle of winter
My coat it will tell,
Bend down to me closely
And look at me well:
A thin band in my middle
Means a short winter mild,
But a thick band means
Winter will stay quite awhile.
If a thin band it be, you can
Look for spring early,
And a light dusting of snow
Making fields soft and pearly.
But if a thick band I wear,
Cold will settle in quickly
Winter will stay as
Drifts pile up thickly.
Woolly bear, woolly bear
Where will you hide?
In a moss -covered log
Curled up tightly inside,
Or covered in leaf bracken,
Deep in a dream
Of tender young leaves
Of a succulent green.
Woolly bear, woolly bear
If it does storm, what then?
I'll be under the snow
Hidden safe in my den.
Curled up fast, I'll be warm
And protected from snow,
From the rain and the sleet
And the cold winds that blow.
Woolly bear, woolly bear
Orange and black
How will we know that
You'll really come back?
Don't worry, child,
You will see me again
When summer is turning
To autumn and then,
Look in the woods or
On leaf piles bright
For a flame-colored band
On a background of night,
And there I will be
As I hurry along,
A sign that a shift in
The wind won't be long.
Sensing these changes,
I come out to eat
The last of the leaves
And a shelter to seek.
So, look for me when
The white milkweed silk blows
And goldenrod blossoms
To tickle your nose.
When ripe fruit hangs heavy
On wild blackberry and
The spice-smoke of autumn
Mist drifts through the land.
Remember me always
When the wild geese fly,
And a tale I will tell you
Of winter's grey sky;
My coloring tells
What the weather will hold;
In the coat on my back
Is the future foretold.