Fear Of Missing Out
If you slept through the night of the meteor shower,
if you missed the eclipse, the aurora, the Supermoon,
you may still see the sun-shined spiderweb,
the dandelion in the sidewalk crack,
the raindrop making a path like a snail
on the window. You can still find the star
in the halved apple, brother of the rose.
You can see pigeons flaunt their bronze,
hear their murmur croom croom.
You can stand in the wind, fry pungent spices.
Feast on the unscheduled, unheralded, unnamed.
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Arlene Weiner lives in Pittsburgh. She has been a Shakespeare scholar, a cardiology technician, an editor, a den mother, and a member of a group developing computer applications for education. Her poems have been published in a variety of journals and anthologies, including Pleaides, Poet Lore, and Paterson Literary Review. She held a MacDowell fellowship. Ragged Sky published three collections of her poetry: Escape Velocity (2006), City Bird (2016), and More (2022). She also writes plays.