Winter TreesGold light rakes across craggy bark,Throws twisted arms into rough relief;Shadows wrap around behind,Adding form to lithe grey muscled sheathsAgainst the dome of cerulean sky,Where they wave in sylvan semaphoreAs icy aether clouds wisp by,Etched by their capillary lines.copyright J. Shidler, 2012-03-03
Haha! just kidding, I get what you're saying.
...sometimes I really want to pinch you. Like...right in the armpit area, only forward a bit.
scientific reason...lol...nutball.