In November by Cynthia Rylant. Harcourt, 2000. Prose, but superbly poetic language. Take the very first page:
“In November, the earth is growing quiet. It is making its bed, a winter bed for flowers and small creatures. The bed is white and silent, and much life can hide beneath its blankets.”A lovely metaphor that is vivid and gentle and fully accessible for any child. This continues throughout—trees are sticks and bones, spreading their arms like dancers; berries are the winter birds’ treasures; food smells orange. The story comes back to the bed image in the last line:
“...the world has tucked her children in, with a kiss on their heads, till spring.”Beautiful, tender illustrations, a gorgeous book.
No comments:
Post a Comment