FROSTBITING

Mom and Dad left us home on Sunday afternoons

To go sailing in a dingy on Long Island Sound,

In the winter.

“Frostbiting” it was called,

Such an inspiring name.

They both knew well,

How to sail,

They were smart, opinionated,

And determined.

And doomed.

They capsized.

Not once or twice,

But almost every time they went out.

They’d come home,

Mom wrapped in a blanket,

A wry smile on her face,

(Thanks to whiskey aboard the committee boat)

Dad, wrapped in embarrassment,

At his plans,

Foiled again.

Trying to fix his relationship,

Thru “shared activities”.

Hey, sometimes,

Shit happens.