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?