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?