 The next poem is entitled, Sign is like a tree. It's a little bit of a political poem. It's one of my earliest political poems that I wrote in ASL. And you can watch and you can see many, many signs and many ideas that relate to the deaf experience. Sign is like a tree. Once long ago there was a dry seedling inconsequential pressed into the darkness hidden in the midst of the dirt of bare fields. For years it lay germinating and then sprouts shot up and then another and then more. Branches emerged and blossomed. The tree became unique and lovely, natural, creative, expressive. And then structures began to encroach on the tree. Civilization began to surround it. New trees were sown in cultivated rows perfectly trimmed and boring. But people say these sequential trees are perfect. People say this tree is not perfect. People say this tree does not fit in with their plans. People say it's unbecoming. People say it's a good idea to let the chimp swing in that tree. People say it's a good idea to hide it away in the forest where no one can see. But I disagree. That's not the place it's best to let the little girl embrace the tree. Let it be strong and proud and tall reaching out its arms for all to see. To sign.