Spring Flood Warnings

by Mian Ebling

There was a quiet before sleep
when we would listen 
to the metallic ticking 
of the heater coming on.

A cadence like an old wind chime, 
like the way you drum your 
fingers on the steering wheel, 
or the rhythm of your breath.

I remember those frosted months
filling up my bathtub
just so we could drain it
because we missed the sound of rain.

Now melted memories slide off rooftops,
drip down on pavement,
rushing down streets and into gutters
carrying our winter with them.