I could not see the ship
that Grandma pointed to.
After all, it was just a cloud;
a shapeless mass
that crept across the sky.
But I kept looking.
At last my eye
began to trace the sail and hull
of her celestial sloop.
She pointed upward one more time
to lift my sight to yet another.
And soon I saw them come and go;
a chalky fleet of billowed sails
to carry soul beyond telestial view.
They had been there all the while.
The only thing I had to do . . .
Steve Dunn Hanson
Spokane Washington, 2010