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?