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/