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?