It wasn't tan, it wasn't white, sort of orange in the sun's light.
As I walked there it stayed, like a ball, stopped in mid-flight,
It wasn't up and it wasn't down, but fully round and in my sight.

As I walked the dog she had no interest in this ball,
Out of reach and it did not roll anywhere at all,
There were no strings, I was waiting for it to fall.

I tried to enjoy the quiet morning, with city sleeping, a peaceful commune,
the dog had done her business, and the brisk walk was over way too soon,  
The ball never got closer,
or further but, played peek from behind the trees and branches, yes, it was a full moon.