This is a pastiche of 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe.
Long ago upon a hilltop (let me finish then I will stop) I espied a curious traveller where no traveller was before. As I raised an arm in greeting all at once he took to beating at the air like one entreating passing boats to come ashore like a castaway repeating empty movements from the shore or an over-eager whore. Never one to wonder blindly I demanded not unkindly "Are you waving, or behaving in a manner heretofore generally unexpected, or perhaps you have neglected to observe the mien affected by humanity before?" (For he seemed to have elected to gesticulate some more.) Quoth the traveller "Semaphore"