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?