Patina

Patina, that aging of metal. Something I noticed today on this old doorknob in the house. All the hands that have turned this knob, I think, all the times the lock has caught in the catch, or hasn't caught. All the slams, all the hushed leavings-ajar. I went to swim today and noticed again all the women who looked as if they'd been swimming for centuries, all with a certain patina, who make their way, back and forth, with seemingly little effort. I keep swimming, hoping it comes to me too.