Waiting to cross GW bridge on way back home. No movement.
Post above minus photo made while stopped just past the toll plazas of George Washington Bridge. For safety, I put my car in park. All traffic was at a complete stand still for about 10 minutes.
The title of the post comes from this Robert Frost poem:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.