Suddenly everything
Stayed the same.
We who had called
The water blue
Refocused on our lenses.
We who had seen the island move
Reunderstood our oars. The sand
Composed some drumlins in the sound
So we revised the sky. And whether we felt fog or not,
The sun still burned alive. Arose, along the tide-lines,
Ever un-updated news. (Some news was not
Of men.) A day and a night were number five
And suddenly nothing changed again.