Poetry by Carrie Magness Radna
Yesterday’s snow was short;
it fell fast and quick, disappearing
off apartment buildings and scaffolding
as rain, melting, hitting the heads of passersby
the morning after, in a bright day of sun,
making accidental mini-rainbows
dancing in sewage grates.
Sickness done, I must breathe easy.
Back to work, I join the crowd again
as we drive through underpasses and bridges
where the new melted rain
flows down easily.
About the Poet
Carrie Magness Radna is an audiovisual cataloger at New York Public Library, a choral singer, and a poet who loves traveling. Her poems have previously appeared in The Oracular Tree, Mediterranean Poetry, Shot Glass Journal, and First Literary Review-East. Born in Norman, Oklahoma, she lives with her husband in Manhattan.