We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening–
Everywhere the eye concedes to
Encroaching horizon,

Is wooed into the cyclops’ eye
Of a tarn. Our unfenced country
Is bog that keeps crusting
Between the sights of the sun.

From Bogland by Seamus Heaney

Portmoak Moss, known to locals as The Moss, is one of the few remaining raised bogs in central Scotland. – Woodland Trust