Like rain in September

it washes the world, pours

down from the sky,

catches on the wind,

drives into cracks and seeps


This little hope rages,

envelops me,

holds me in her embrace.

The world is clean, new washed,

fresh because of it.

Doubt clouds like mosquitoes but

dissipates in the sun.

Like rain in September, hope

washes over me.

I cling to my dream and it

drives me.

by Cher Bibler