AI generated haiku to explain this

40 years of postcards,
Art sent through quiet hands,
Images collide—faces, trash, and trees.
A strange rhythm, unexpected,
Ink on paper, whispers sent.
For $25 a month,
A piece of joy arrives,
In silence, an artful spark.
Gas stations hum, teachers smile,
Strangers receive thoughts, bright and wild.
Not just a card, but a thread of connection,
In each little mail art’s direction.
A surprise in your hands,
One bright gleam, one tiny stand.