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?