October Dance

I see them each year in October,

like some creepy Sci-Fi episode.

I weave my car, and watch in wonder.

Why do caterpillars cross the road?

I'd like to ask where they are going.

Are they chasing a leafy confection?

Or maybe they're much too proud to admit

that they have no sense of direction.

I hate to hit the little critters.

Below a tire, they don't stand a chance.

But when other cars are rolling toward me,

I will not wrongly avert my glance.

This strange dance only lasts a few days.

If I don't hit one, I make a wish.

And I am very thankful that they

are so small I cannot hear them squish.