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?