The air was fresh and still,
unless you get moved by the sound of the waves of traffic,
going by.

The hue of the blue sky,
not dusk or or sunset,
twilight isn't quite right as the moon hung
like a broken vessel, with traffic in waves underneath,
going by.

I stood, with my dog pulling at the leash in my hand,
boy could she demand to be let go
where ever her nose would take her,
oblivious to the noisy wash from the street,
going by.

I knew in that moment joy and sadness;
for the awe I felt in that moment and aware that
I would not finish my writing for that contest tonight,
another opportunity and time, noisily,
going by.

The deadline was like the air to me,
a chill reality, my dog exploded after a rabbit heading to escape us by,
going by.

My arm was jolted to full reach,
the leash bit into my hand as the dogs paws bit into the the mossy
ground, legs and moss flying to gain momentum to chase the prey,
yet I held her still no further than six feet away,
her heart racing while my life was staying pace
marking time,
going by.