ASPHODEL

Best of hill flowers

Is the regal asphodel

That ends our summer

By catching stars, setting them

On wands above the moors.

They burn brightly, gold

And yellow shoots of fire

Which leave dry parchment prayers

Stark on the stalks of winter.

Only when the new-minted stars

Are gathered from translucent

Skies of blue summer

Can the pale princes burn;

For one month sceptres stud the moor –

And asphodel is king.

Hamish Brown