Lovebirds gravitate to the same perch
beneath the well-feathered branches
of old cypresses (cypressi?)
that too many years ago
were uprooted and planted
on this side of the hill.

Up the now-mirrored steps
two bodies lean
from a spot you'd swear
is halfway between
the waters you wander through
and the oceans you wonder for.

Measured to the centimeter,
a ruler still won't tell you
the toll these trips take
on the limbs sprouting up from the sand
grounding down to the land
reaching out only to end in another empty hand.

But still the lovebirds pause here
in the man-made wonder
that may as well be a wayside inn
for all the shelter it gives
to those on the journey
with only one end.