Quantum Theory baffles me
as I ski across this field.

I raise my arms and let the wind
wave me toward oblivion.
Birch trees bend west
as I try to go east.

Forces of good show themselves
as apples in my mailbox.
A ghost from the past
tells me to follow your voice.

It echoes into a canyon
where I once lived badly.
Your atoms make matter matter.
Don't apologize for that.