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?