The following was posted by me on another preservation list-serv under the
title

"A locution on the nature of fora"

in response to a couple of rather mean-spirited posts that I thought
injured the community, with such statements as:

"Nevertheless, I don't think they were saying anything that you didn't.
 They just did so in a MUCH more concise format."

and

"Remember folks -- we're here to help and inspire each other -- not to
make a display of our own erudition."

Anyway, my post:

---------------------------------

An ill wind rustles in the agora.  Dry leaves tremble in corners beneath
the arcade.  The air is parched as the dust devils dance; a momentary
shadow dims the tawny stone as the sun is eclipsed by a cloud.  Over the
bustling murmur of voices, from across the cobblestones...the sudden first
notes of stentorian discord hang over the frozen moment, echo hollowly,
then decay.  The cloud passes.  Brightly colored currency flashes from
hand to hand in the brilliant light.  The accents of the traders' banter
ebbs and flows from east and west, north and south, melding in a steady
crescendo.   A refreshing zephyr caresses the marketplace.
__________________________________________________
Dan Becker,  Executive Director      "Conformists die, but
Raleigh Historic                              heretics live on forever"
Districts Commission                             -- Elbert Hubbard
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-------------------------------------

So, the question: someone in a follow-up called this a "lovely poem."
 Those of you that've been here long enough know that I am truly in
trouble in the realm of poetry.  I usually depend upon Chriftopher to
write my poetry.  Is this poetry?  I viewed it as prose.  Please advise.

Signed,

Dan 'don't know if I'm cummings or Goins" Becker