Snow’s Epilogue

We can’t codify the snowflakes nor put them into order.
They fall to make a blanket or a pile or a border.
They come in a blizzard and leave us in a trickle.
There’s something about former snow that is so very fickle.
It drips in drops from icicles and surges down the gutters.
Our attempts to modify it end in futile mutters.
I need not be prophetic to state the truth of snow.
It starts out in a flurry and ends up in a flow.

This poem does not match the beautiful imagery of the poem that inspired the prompt or of those poets who answered it. You can see a link to their poems below.  All I can say for it is that it does record snow’s ending .

The challenge for dVerse Poets is to write about snow.