I saw an orange dog in a dream.
He was long, lean and curious.
I was sitting in a mall and
he was limping toward me
with his eyes fixed on me inquisitively.
I didn’t know if he wanted food or
to be affectionately petted.
When he had limped up to me,
I extended my dream hand to
pet him, but he and the dream vanished.
Maybe seeing that curious orange dog
in the dream was a fortuitous omen,
something good coming my way,
like a lovely, older woman with orange hair
who writes poetry sitting in a wooden chair.
Maybe I’ll meet her when I go to the
grocery store tonight. Fingers crossed.
Bob Boyd