Bohemians Sitting on a Stump

Bohemians sitting on a stump.
Scratching the surface of wood with their curled in
monkey hands.
Crouched over in waiting like a homeless man waiting for soup after three days of starvation.
They wait.
They gaze over to the next Bohemian on a stump
and wonder what they look like underneath. What they are starving for.
They twist spines from right to left because they cannot move from their stump unless told to.
Hands above heads, arms stretched out, chin resting on palms. Any position to keep from the dangers of insanity.

A Master comes around and observes the stumps and its inhabitant. Each in its proper place. The Bohemian leans over, stretching as far as their limbs will lengthen, straining to see a glimpse of the Master's parchment. Only what is on the paper determines their fate.

They start drumming. Hands cut from reverberating a noise on the hollow stump, trying to make some small stream of sound.
"Listen to this beat!"
"Louder!"
A postman 20 miles away delivers mail in a small quiet suburban neighborhood.
He stops, listens, and hears the thunderous noise of the Bohemian boys in the distance...