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?