At dusk this evening, just above the roofs of the row of houses across the street, the last sliver of a waning crescent moon, with Venus to the southwest, large and bright against the almost-black blue. I carried Luisa up to my room to show her the beautiful sight: "Moon," she said, "and a star."

And I remembered driving along Campus Drive at Stanford in my friend Libby's VW Bug, with a Dead tape on, "Lady with a Fan," and just as we saw the crescent moon and Venus in the darkening sky, "Terrapin Station" began:

Counting stars by candlelight
Some are dim but one is bright
The spiral light on Venus
Rising first and shining best
Oh, from the north-west corner
Of a brand new crescent moon
Where crickets and cicadas sing
A rare and different tune
Terrapin Station
In the shadow of the moon
Terrapin Station
And I know we'll be there soon