SEASON OF DOUBT. A season born in decant doubts Amid tales woven around crowded lies Pivoted fingers of the polluted seas Along hills of raven where desert ends Combining pinioned deeds of silver keel Scythe moulded forms in tampered steel. Blow, blow the eastern wind Across the valleys with your sharp breath Transfer the seeds from the colder climbs To warm plains kneaded by fingered earth. Conspiring to trim the wings Of the sidereal desired dreaming soul Half in earnest half in remembrance Invitations to some strange tales of bold.