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?