WINDS ESKER               
  
                                          
 THERE WAS  THIS PLACE THAT FOR TWO YEARS 
 I  COULDN'T  GO TO. REGARDLESS HOW  MUCH 
 DISCUSSED  WITH  OTHERS, OR POINTED  OUT 
 ON  MAPS, I COULD NOT  THINK OF IT  WHEN 
 ALONE.  I  WOULD OFTEN TRAVEL  PAST  THE 
 FORK,  WHERE A  RIGHT TURN  WOULD SURELY 
 TAKE ME THERE, BUT  EVEN THEN, SOMETHING 
               KEPT ME AWAY.              
                                          
 WHEN I  FINALLY  GOT  THERE, AFTER  SOME 
     HEAVY SUBCONSCIOUS BATTLE I MUST     
 ASSUME,  THE   PLACE  WAS   SURREAL.  AN 
 ESKER, LIKE A  NEEDLE-THIN  RIFT OUT  IN 
 THE   LAKE,  BUT  TEN  METERS  HIGH  AND 
 ADORNED  IN BIRCH, WILLOW, BRACKEN,  AND 
               BLUEBERRIES.               
                                          
 WALKING  ATOP  THAT  SPINE,  I  CAME  TO 
 NOTICE THE VIEW  TO  EITHER  SIDE. THERE 
 SHOULD  BE  SHORES,  OF  COURSE,  BUT  I 
 DIDN'T RECOGNIZE THEM. FIRST  OFF,  THEY 
 WERE MUCH TOO  CLOSE, AS THE LAKE SHOULD 
 STRETCH  FOR A  HUNDRED METERS  MORE  ON 
 BOTH  SIDES.  BUT  NOW  I  FELT  I COULD 
 ALMOST  REACH  OUT  AND TOUCH  THEM. AND 
 THEN, WHEN I REALIZED  WHICH SHORES THEY 
           WERE, I HAD TO STOP.           
                                          
 THEY  WERE OF  THE RIGHT  LAKE. BUT THIS 
       LAKE IS LARGE, FRACTURED, AND      
 BIPARTITE. LIKE A PAIR  OF LUNGS  CARVED 
 INTO THE GRANITE,  AND WITH NO LESS THAN 
   FIVE COMMUNITIES ANCHORED AT VARIOUS   
      POINTS. AND SO, STUDYING THESE      
     IMPOSSIBLY CLOSE SHORES, I SLOWLY    
 UNDERSTOOD THEM AS BELONGING  MANY MILES 
                   AWAY.                  
                                          
 I  EXAMINED  THE  RIDGE,   THE  TREELINE 
 ABOVE.  WAS THIS  WHAT YOU SAW OPPOSITE, 
 FROM  THOSE  OTHER  SHORES?  I  COULDN'T 
                REMEMBER.                 
                                          
 CARRYING  FORWARD, ON  THE  VERY  TIP OF 
 THE ESKER, I  FOUND  THE  RUINS  OF SOME 
    OLD BUILDING. THERE WERE OVERGROWN    
  MARBLE STAIRCASES, STONE FLOORS BENEATH 
 THE  MOSS,  AND  STRANGE SLABS  INSERTED 
 INTO THE  SLOPE  LIKE  DAMS AGAINST  THE 
              GROUND ITSELF.              
                                          
 SITTING  THERE,  I COULD SEE ACROSS  THE 
 NARROWED LAKE MY  ENTIRE PATH TO WHERE I 
 SAT: FROM  THE  STAIRWELL  OF  MY HOUSE, 
 THROUGH  THE OLD WOODS  BEHIND  THE TILE 
      FACTORY, THE BRIDGE OVER ROUTE      
 TWENTY THREE AND  THEN  BACK  UNDER  IT, 
 THROUGH  THE  FANCY  VILLAS,  OVER   THE 
 FIELDS, AND THEN THAT  RIGHT TURN AT THE 
                  FORK.                   
                                          
 AND THEN  THE  STAIRS  UP ON  THE RIDGE. 
 THINKING  BACK,  THIS WAS  PROBABLY  IT. 
 HIDDEN  IN  A GROVE,  THERE  WERE STAIRS 
 MUCH LIKE THE  ONES I CURRENTLY  SAT ON, 
 OLD  AND  WORN  DOWN,  THAT  LEAD YOU UP 
 ONTO THE ESKER. THE POINT OF  ENTRY. HAD 
 I  INSTED OPTED  TO WALK THE PATH AT ITS 
 FOOT, I'M SURE  MY  EXPERIENCE  WOULD'VE 
          BEEN DIFFERENT INDEED.          
                                          
  
                                          
 ON  THE  LAKE,  THERE  WERE  PEOPLE   IN 
 BOATS. I WONDERED, COULD  THEY  EVEN SEE 
 ME? IF  I  SHOUTED,  WOULD  THEY TURN TO 
         STARE RIGHT THROUGH ME?