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Stretched past bluffs amassed by the sea,
Where the green hills roll so gently,
The morning sun comes rising up,
With the bells of San Clemente.
Lazy fingers of sea-haze mist,
Point softly, touching shrub and tree,
Blending the slow murmuring surf,
With the bells of San Clemente.
Westward, Catalina ascends,
Her dark form waves enchantingly,
Dancing through the pacific blue,
With the bells of San Clemente.
Out past the pier where white gulls fly,
Boats adorn a mild weathered sea,
Endlessly floating all year 'round,
With the bells of San Clemente.
Then, gloriously crowning the day,
When the red sun dips reverently...
Weaving all earth and sky in song,
With the bells of San Clemente.
by Karen Davies
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Karen Davies - Karen is a native of southern California, married with three children.
She works together with her British husband in their small Orange County business. Reading and writing poetry is her favorite way to relax in the evenings.
