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?