Poetry Picture Book - Every Month is a New Year by Marilyn Singer

Illustrated by Susan L. Roth

2018 Lee & Low Books

HC $20.95

48 pgs.

Goodreads rating:  3.57 - 109 ratings

My rating:  4

Endpapers: Solid bright yellow 

Oddities:  The book is read like  calendar - spine along the top.  

My comments:  What a wonderful concept for a poetry book, poems that explain or commemorate New Year celebrations (of all sorts!) in New York City, Scotland, Russia, Iran, Thailand, Jordan, New Zealand, Chile, Ancient Egypt, India, Ethiopia, Israel, Ecuador, Spain, and China!Susan L. Roth's illustration, done in cut paper, are equisite.  A lovely anthology with great resources and information at the end.

Goodreads:  Around the world, people celebrate the start of the new year at midnight when December 31 becomes January 1. But not everyone celebrates on this date. In fact, during every month of the year, some group of people in some part of the world is celebrating the new year. Chinese New Year is celebrated in January or February. Nowruz, the Iranian New Year, is celebrated on March 21. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, is celebrated in September or October. Diwali, celebrated in parts of India, falls in October or November. All these celebrations, and many others, have unique traditions and festivities that people observe. This collection of poems pay tribute to several of these fascinating festivities, some well-known and some lesser-known. Go on a whirlwind international tour of these diverse celebrations--enough to fill a twelve-month calendar, and more.

The Year Turns

We chose the date.

From the earth’s movement,

from the moon’s phases,

these clocks and calendars

we create.

Together

in parks and squares,

in temples and houses –

watching

the year

turn,

we

celebrate.

Casting Away Sins
Rosh Hashanah

This morning in the synagogue,
     we heard the shofar's loud, clear sound.
This evening in the house,
     we'll have apples dipped in honey,
          pomegranates with their ruby seeds.
But now, this sunny afternoon,
     we walk to the creek, our pockets full of bread.
"I'll tell you the truth.  I lost the money,"
     my big sister whispers.
"I'll tell you the truth.  I tore the dress,"
     I whisper back.
Then we toss the bread and our sins,
     and watch the flowing water carry them
          far, far away.