Once on a mountain top a few miles south of town, I was walking alone at sunset. It was October, crisp and cold, and the trees down below were turning the beautiful colors they do each year. The mountaintop was a *bald*, no trees, just windswept high grasses and low evergreen bushes. I was watching the sun set behind the mountains to the west and it was one of those where the sun appears enormous, you know what I mean? I turned to walk back to the trail and in the east I saw the full moon rise. It too appeared enormous, so clear I could make out shadows and features on its surface. I turned again to look at the sunset, then back again to the moon. I found myself turning again and again, slowly, in a kind of dance. Sunset... moonrise... sunset... moonrise. Just as I was facing west, I heard a muffled flapping noise, and a beautiful hawk flew low over my head and then out into the setting sun. The moment took my breath away. The event I experienced and just described in words is a physical one. The spiritual event I experienced cannot be described in words. At least not by me. The awe and the peace I experienced are precious to me and they come back to me from time to time when I least expect it. Like now.