ORDINARY THINGS by Phil Boiarski

It starts perfectly and in tune to my evening, light fading, birds twilight nesting calls. Though only a digital copy, words hide in strange places. You have to look all over the page to make sure you don’t miss a line, like a squirrel running on a high branch, blink and you may miss his darting tail.

But that’s what Phil does when he is out searching the word woods, his eyes scan, his mind interprets the view. Boiarski greets the day with descriptive ease, like an oracle sitting telling us a story of how to be still. Pear trees that look like “half nude ballerinas” raises smiles, “Lovers picnic on kisses” and we all understand. Those moments are short lived. He will quickly point your mind to re focus on the splendor of the day, giving leaves their voices, we stroll through timeless imagery, the ebb and flow of life. Only “the quiet hum of air conditioners” reveals that this is a modern ephemera.

Phil Boiarski speaks for the trees, to hear his voice recite his own work is a meditative experience, deep as a monks chant, sure of his feelings, at one with his surroundings he’s watched forever. Blossoms conjure Haiku, and the cycle starts again… snow covers earth, sun rivals moon, words stream.