Stopping by Central Park on a Snowy Evening

So I meant to post these photos weeks ago. They are from our first real snow on Friday, December 19.

I couldn't help but think of Robert Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening." I think I read that poem in about the fifth grade, and I still for some reason remember the words.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.