There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. For that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely. From this hill I have watched many moonsrises. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad，confident harvest moons in autumn;shy, misty moons in spring;lonely, winter moons ...