Judith A. Brice: Notes On A Postcard
May in the Mountains 1919 Ernest Lawson (1873-1939) (As depicted on a postcard)
.
The picture would portray a few flowering apple trees profuse in bloom their parchment petals set to sail with the wind, take off— float over the mansion, over the late day graying grass perhaps into the hills or farther in time beyond. But there is no code, no writing on the leaves, nor message from a settling sun to tell us of the house nestled in behind the trees— no hieroglyphs to say who lives there what their lives abide; who thrives— No notes to say who came to look, ponder the land before they built the structure with five brick chimneys that then became a home, no message to tell us when or even why. Nor fathoming what goes on inside, who has loved, who caressed, which ones among them struggled and how; no divining from this postcard— its impressions in May— what dreams got lost, how hope survived.
Copyright 2020 Judith A. Brice
Vox Populi 
It is great to hear your thoughts, David. I find them very provocative, esp at these times of chaos. And I am glad you saw the relationship between my poem and that silence and mystery “beneath” which, as you say is “untouched and unknown” We miss you and hearing your contribution to the poetry world. Thanks again for your appreciation of my poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Judith. I miss Pittsburgh too. I have struggled to find the same sense of community and inclusivity here in Sydney, in the poetry community and generally. The Poets’ Corner poetry reading series that I have been running for the last couple of years has helped me connect with poets here (see my last Poets’ Corner podcast here: https://youtu.be/rh0WTSZPr7c) but it is still a work in progress. But I do see poetry as a bridge connecting people in often unexpected and delightful ways so it is a happy work in progress!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this Judith, thank you. Indeed ‘there is no code’ even of the houses we live in who hold within them stories we will never know. For all the noise we make on this planet I can’t help but think the silence is greater: we scratch the surface of what goes on around us leaving nearly everything of what lies beneath untouched and unknown. There is beautiful mystery in this that you tap into beautifully!
LikeLiked by 1 person