or sea-eagle, what the guidebook says is white, grayish brown, and “possessed of weak eye- masks” in its non-migratory island

instance, is blue. Blue, riding thermal bands so low over the water it picks up the water’s color, reticulate

tarsi tipping the light crests; and picks up one of the silver fish cutting the surface there, so the fish is blue, too, flapping-gone-

slack in the grasp of its claws—as only the owl shares an outer reversible toe-talon, turned out for such clutching;

as the water, in turn, picks up the sky- depth reflective blue sent down from ages beyond, into which the osprey lifts now

without a least turning of wing-chord though “they are able to bend the joint in their wing to shield their eyes from the light”; what I

mean is, by the time I tell you this it’s gone: fish-and-bird, this “bone-breaker,” brown or gray “diurnal raptor,” back into

the higher trades. Someday, too, this blue—