Since I don’t go to the park until later in the afternoon, I am often there riding my yellow bicycle back to the car as dusk sets in. I quicken my pace as the inky blackness settles around me, and the few farmhouses and barns are left behind. Gazing up into the lofty pines upon hearing the distant hoot of a great horned owl, I begin to perceive myriads of stars glittering above me. The music in my mind that I hear that evening may not arrive until another day. But, the melodies and rhythms have already embellished my soul, and like the stars, will gradually reveal themselves in their delicate splendor.