ANOTHER appreciative view of British summertime.

The late Maurice Lindsay's sonnet has a reflective and perhaps somewhat elegiac edge. It comes from his 2006 collection, Looking Up Where Heaven Isn't (Diehard at the Callander Press, £7.90).

A SEAT IN THE GARDEN

Swinging behind the bordered flowers that lair

my view between the trees of ribboned Clyde,

gazing reflections on the noontide glare

and field-shaped hills that slope the other side,

tall tiger-lilies - orange, white, red, yellow -

through uncurled petals of translucent light,

velvet with veining, colour out the mellow

sensed peace of Milton Hill, on which I write,

troubled by thoughts of leaving. Yet the peace

of this high-summer day wears quickly on,

escaping through the setting sun's release

till shapes and colours, like regret, are gone,

as time goes waterfalling from the ledge

behind which pooling hope lips trembled edge.