https://www.rspb.org.uk/reserves-and-events/reserves-a-z/forsinard-flows/

I am on my way to the Flow Country. A vast area of blanket bog in the north of Scotland. Why? See the link above.

The meadow-lands are like a sister
Flower-dressed and merry dancing
Intricately known and loved
In all her moods and whimsies.

The uplands, crazy friends of childhood
They may have hit hard times of late
But always ready, freshly eager
To propose a new adventure

The heath, more like a friendship
Met now and then, a summer romance
Their sunkissed warm and sandy skin
Delightful to my feet of clay

But oh, those northern bogs beckon like
A dark entrancing stranger
Brooding over centuries forgot
Old heroism forgotten by our day

Dark peat may draw me into
Deeper mysteries of life
Enfold me in strong arms of ancient honour
Or suck me into unimagined depths

And yet I go, with beating heart
Forsaking my sweet dancing sister and old friends
Forgetting any future in the lighter lands
To venture out into the flow
And go to where it takes me