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?