Obama in September: A poem of sorts

I don't have poetry in my soul, but Barack Obama's election keyed a thought I want to share, a thought of a specific moment next year. Rarely for me, it's in poetic form (sorta).

Framed in olive branches and powder blue
Before men and women
who traveled half the world to be there
   in a hall half an island distant from Ground Zero.
The American president prepares to speak. For the first time in years,
   The hall prepares to listen.
     to accept his challenges
     to share his hopes
     to welcome his plans
     to join in his work

President Obama hasn't spoken yet, but we have.
It is the first time the American people speak honestly.
  for the first time in history, it is true when we say:

"We stand before you.
And this is who we are."