Fire Star and Fire Fast

Six year-old Sean and me,

Indian Guides named Fire Star and Fire Fast,

Board a cruiser blasting through waves to Catalina,

Bouncing, dipping, dancing in wind,

Like a giant barracuda made of steel.                                                  Fire Star and Fire Fast

Flying fish spread dorsal fins, leap, glide and

Change directions like Blue Angels.

They drop tails, push off ocean surface, soar, or splash under.

Smiling dolphin reveal gold beaks,

Ride the white bubbling wake chasing prey soaring.

Dock at Camp Fox, sing songs around fire circle, hike at night.

Ursa Major points to North Star and Alberio in Cygnus

Summer triangle and Draco sprawl and dazzle.

Relax in sleeping bags on Button Shell Beach.

Sunrise streaks over waking city to island retreat.

Vermilion beams paint sand dollars, mollusks, urchins,

Scarlet sea fans, seashells, and crabs in glinting tide pools.

Eyes brighten with each treasure in pail,

Under glow, learning, and loving.

Waves lap sand, sloshing the shore.

In nature, son and father blend.

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This entry was posted in Non-Fiction, Poems, Science, Writings and tagged , , , by Daniel C. Lavery. Bookmark the permalink.

About Daniel C. Lavery

Dan’s writing shows his transformation from a child to an athlete and a Duke pre-ministerial student where he began to question ancient and arbitrary dogma. He graduated from Annapolis, navigated a Navy jet, and a ship to Vietnam, fell in love, turned peace activist and a civil rights lawyer for Cesar Chavez's UFW. His memoir, "All the Difference," describes the experiences, some humorous and others deadly, that changed his consciousness from a pawn to an advocate crusading for justice against some of the most powerful forces in America.

2 thoughts on “Fire Star and Fire Fast

  1. Remember the camp so well as there two summers for week in the 70’s in junior high.

    Was the greatest place to be at that time with night dives. Real tough hike to the airport if you made that mistake…Hated to leave and never come back.
    Surprise pigs in the trash dump there at night… So nice to see it keeps going.

    • Hi John: Thanks for you comment that finds the scene a great place. The poem was about Indian Guides with parents. My son was with me when he was six learning about nature and spending the weekend with me at that wonderful camp. Must have been a significantly different feeling to do “Night dives” and find “pigs in the trash dump when in junior high. “Did your teen group or others around use weapons there?

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