The branches, though creaking, seemed soft like vines, its foliage musical gemlike ornaments. Just as they were all but done lifting themselves off the ground, a thin bough-tip scooped up the wooden stump I had loathsomely discarded and, wrapping itself around it, pulled it up amidst the other elderly limbs as they returned into their erect position.
“Um, you are going to keep that?”
Rachel Tremblay 