By Kate DiCamillo
Once, I was in New York.
in Central Park, and I saw
an old man in a black overcoat walking
a black dog. This was springtime
and the trees were still
bare and the sky was
gray and low and it began, suddenly,
big fat flakes
that twirled and landed on the black of the man's overcoat and
the black dog's fur. The dog
lifted his face and stared
up at the sky. The man looked
up, too. "Snow Aldo," he said to the dog,
"snow." And he laughed.
The dog looked
at him and wagged his tail.
If I was in charge of making
snow globes, this is what I would put inside:
the old man in the black overcoat,
the black dog,
two friends with their faces turned up to the sky
as if they were receiving a blessing,
as if they were being blessed together
as simple as snow
As part of our author study this month, the children read Kate DiCamillo's poem, Snow Aldo. They had the opportunity to make their own snow globes.