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She's dark and light and the tumult in between, and when she's dark, she's ''dark'' indeed: an impetuous queen of solar flares and a roiling, scorched-dark sea. It's her leading edges that are bright, of nose and ridges and wings alike: bright as her eyes, except when those are dark, colors made manifest as night. They glitter, too, those eyes: with interest and with imagination, suiting a build that's long and lean, less for agility or endurance than flagrant, soaring flight. Those vast wings call out to be spread, copper-gold the more dramatic for dark spars' frame; light and dark writhe united, not a single fingerwidth the same.