A Chitter in the Leaves

"Keep up, sleepyhead!" she giggled, chittering through the trees,
sundress shimmering, shifting, slipping.
"We're almost there, oh, I can't wait!" the girl chattered,
shimmying between trees, barefoot goddess to a fallen land.
A raven cocked its head, far above, listening carefully to a wanderlust queen.

"But where, where are we going?" he replied, breathless and shirt-torn,
burr-filled boots slowing his headlong abandon.
"I can never see this city you always talk about!" he scolded her,
crunching a rotten log, cracking scraggly branches scraping his face.
A raven cocked his glossy head the other way, carefully watching a forlorn king.

"But don't you remember?" she mock gasped, jumping ahead,
hand reaching backwards, fingers curling in invitation.
"It's my birthday! turning suddenly while running backwards,
hair hiding eyes, brown strands summer stunning.
A raven jumped, faithless flight, simple streaming.

"Of course, gorgeous!" he responded, clasping her hand,
sweat-stained palm reaching for beauty.
"But I'm dying to see this city," he yelled into the wind,
catching up to her, his sky siren, his movement.
A raven, ink-stained, circled and circled, breathing a deadly song.

"We're there, oh, we're there!" she squealed,
awakening the morning, suddenly stopping a headlong dance.
"Oh my god, it's breathtaking," she murmured,
leaning into his chest, sinking into his arms.
A raven dove, amongst the chitter in the leaves, and chased its shadow to the ground.