what can happen in a second

I.
the perch closes its mouth on the worm
my hand jerks the pole
lungs swell quickly on a gasp
water wrinkles as fins protest heave
fish surrenders
guilt surfaces

II.
air pushed through open lips
a sigh, a puff of disappointment
or a clipped whistle
at the dog who ran
too far down shore

III.
there is a green aura
where the sun touches the water
on the horizon
we cannot help but call
out this science to strangers
all facing the fading heat
while waves break
and wind pushes
we anticipate the mystery
absorb it like humidity
on our goose-pimpled flesh
when it is over
in a second
we smile shyly at those
same strangers trudging
through sand
back to car campers
differently warm