One morning, I stood in the fallow field south of the house
staring straight up.

My neighbor sauntered over,
clicking the wings of a carburetor he was cleaning.

'What are you looking at? '

'Skylark, ' I said.

'I don't see nothing.' He squinted skyward.

'Keep looking.' I pointed
with my whole arm, sighting on my thumb.

The skylark spewed a chaos of buzzes, tweets, and trills
in a long, blue song without a score.

'Oh, yeah, I see it. What's it doing? '

'Impressing a female.'

We stood so long a field mouse ran across my boot.

Finally, apropos of nothing, he said,
'A man would have to be crazy to sing like that.'

Eric Paul Shaffer

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apropos-of-nothing/