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?