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?