Patina

Glass, when it is old, acquiesces
to gravity,
revealing its fluid
properties, shimmying down
in iridescent ripples.

The seasons
bring their winds, carrying the dust
and detritus of weather
to scrape and caress,
burnishing the surface to a softened
sheen of minute refractions.

No clear window,
the pane
wavers like a breeze-shivered lake,
transmits light with its own attitude
of color and shimmer.

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