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?