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?