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?