Sometimes I hear a sound and then the thing that made the sound isn't there anymore. . . . The ants crawl over my arm and back into the grass again. They mean me no harm. I am only a mountain to them. . . . My mother said, 'Turn around and I'll zip your dress.' So I turned around and around and around and around and around. . . . David said that he didn't want an Ice Cream Sundae, because he wanted it now. . . . David and I think that the waves of the ocean are the water breathing."" Not quite poems, these separate passing observations from a little girl in the city ring true even though they won't transfix the wigglers, and the author's low-keyed one-color drawings keep them in perspective.