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?