serendipity

Accused of aging,
I retract in whorls of renewal.
my fingertips reassert themselves.
if there is a line between wish and prayer
it's worn through; staccato-ed.
it's narrow and fine.
i make my appeals to a magistrate of children
while they play -
who should bear witness defend or judge?
it's a coin flip but
every penny has so many faces hidden
and none - or - few of them will
tell us anything - or much beyond
what we've decided to hear.
a spinning bottle pointing only to itself
and the message within;
revelation wavers and tips,
then holds in the bottomles tone
that rises from its disembodied throat
when held before humming lips,
just so.