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?