Bio

Benjamin Cannicott Shavitz is a writer and linguistics scholar whose studies in language have led him to a great enthusiasm for formal poetry. He lives in Manhattan, New York City and received his PhD in linguistics from the Graduate Center at The City University of New York. He has published two collections of his own poetry (Levities and Gravities), as well as an anthology of poems by New York City poets from throughout history (Songs of Excelsior). His work has also been published in The Lyric and by The Society of Classical Poets. See www.kingsfieldendeavors.com/
writing for links to his writing.

Some of the
Hum of the
City diminishes
Just as the cloud cover finishes
Swelling from nowhere, but, then, as a drop hits my shoulder, the
Sidewalks all empty as everyone shelters. Then, seven more drops slap my arms and it's colder: the

Sweltering heat disappears and now seventy raindrops, each big as a marble, start striking each second and I begin sprinting
toward home. Then, dramatically,

All of the sky is exploding with water and all I can feel is the cold and the freedom of running while nobody questions my breach of
decorum since lightning's erupted and thunder has clashed, but, then, all of it, prompt- and erratically,

Stops and the sun shines emphatically.

Structural Note:
The length, in metrical feet (dactyls here), of every line in this poem except the last one is determined by the Fibonacci sequence.
The last line adds a sense of closure. There is end rhyme at the end of each line.