Turning Fifty

Turning Fifty

At times the nights seemed his best friend
and he could sense inside himself things letting go,
hear crickets, feel the breeze on his bare arms,
imagine or remember laughter, friends,
tell them how things were, hear their replies,
drink a beer or two, relax. Or rise again
above defenders' outstretched arms
and hear a swish! the winning score,
no missed jump shots, no kids in trouble
with the law, no checks returned for lack of funds,
the distant sliver of a moon like what the day
had been, a fragment, meaningless,
his only wish for night to come, for crickets
and the shadow of who he might have been.