Oh September rain You drench my folded vale. Your cold and cheerless mist Like linen, soft and pale. But you seduce. You persist. And your verdant prize Is my Holy Grail.   Gone be fawn and dust. Out with brown and drought! It is your sparkling stream for which I lust. And water for my Trout. Come grace us with your driving squalls, And saturate us in your dew. Oh how I have prayed for you!   Explanation. August here in the KZN midlands is not a pretty time of year. At the end of a long winter, the