Some more perfect poetry from Jeanne Willis with dreamlike pictures by Gwen Millward, on a subject quite similar to Linda Newbery’s Lob the other day.
Here we have two small sisters visiting their grandparents and trying sleeping in a tent in the garden. That is not going to go well, what with creepy crawlies all over the place. And it’s dark.
Then they meet a small boy, the size of a beetle, whose job it is to help small creatures in the wild, because these creatures in their turn help things to grow. And then he dies. Or does he?
I really, really need a small person to read some books to. This is one such book. Jeanne’s words have a lovely rhythm, and are crying out to be read aloud. Maybe I can read to myself?
Is it as nice as Bog Baby? I cried reading that one to myself. Tragic as that image is.
It’s slightly less sad than Bog Baby, but as nice.