Marenza
The town is built downhill. To reach the water, you give up height one street at a time.
Under the arch
The upper streets keep their shade all morning. Cool stone on either hand, an arch overhead, and the light waiting somewhere below — a bright seam at the far end of the lane.
Past the bell tower
The lane lets go and the square opens. Awnings, a few chairs not yet out, the chapel's tower against a sky already warm. Somewhere a bell counts the half hour.
The long wall
A high blind wall on the right, the ground falling away on the left. Between two buildings the lake shows itself for the first time — pale, flat, and much closer than it sounded.
Down to the shore
Striped umbrellas, a moored boat knocking softly, the rail along the water. Here the descent runs out of slope. You can hear the lake now, which means you have almost arrived.
Under the elm
One great tree, a flight of steps, the chapel facing the mountains across the water. Lake level. There is nowhere lower to go, and no reason to.