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It is only fitting that it should snow now. Yesterday marked 90 years since the publication of Robert Frost’s book “New Hampshire”, which included the famous “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening“.

snowy Prospect Park

snowy Prospect Park

Frost was the first poet I came to on my own.

Prospect Park

Prospect Park

Until visiting one of his former homes in south Vermont I assumed “Stopping by Woods…” was about death an aging.

snowy Prospect Park

snowy Prospect Park

Like many poets, Frost wasn’t keen on discussing the meaning of his poems.

Prospect Park in Brooklyn

Prospect Park in Brooklyn

If I wanted you to know I’d had told you in the poem.

Prospect Park

Prospect Park

Very well.

Prospect Park

Prospect Park

I forgot to wear my snow boots for this walk. My feet were wet before I reached the park. Only a handful of people were out – two cross country skiers, a couple playing with their dog and a walking marshmallow coat with a dark umbrella –  so it felt like I had the park all to myself. This is a rare sensation to have in New York City. I couldn’t not keep going and going.

Prospect Park

Prospect Park

I opted for the scenic route back and lingered on the last stanza. It doesn’t sound so melancholy when you take the poet at his word. He first wrote them by hand ninety-one years ago, which seems like no time at all on a day like today.

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.

Dare you to mock my snowcyclops

Go ahead… mock my snowcyclops

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