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?