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?