There is snow where there was snow. And now, we wait. I remember looking out over the fields, seeing trees, dewy grass, beyond a fence that held back a universe. Now when I climb over that fence, I’m trespassing. That’s what I’ve been talking about all this time — the wonder of music and the ecstatic remembrance of tomorrows. No fences this time. When you hear The Light Waits, you’ll know.