The First Black Woolly Bear

I step over last night’s dark fox scat
and sidestep the slow caterpillar
making its way across the trail.

The field is green and yellow,
tan with crisp brown,
filled with gleaning birds
that won’t be here for long.

Scattered frost asters
are the last hope for bees,
and up high the geese are calling.

Everything is on the move.