The Jazzman Of Stonehenge Poem by Al. Manacial

The Jazzman of Stonehenge;
kneeling
taps his tiny toffee hammer
on the tarmac path.
Shakes his matchbox at
passing feet.

From his coat pocket takes
a small dull blade
to make quiet scraping noises,
like a field mouse
eats corn.

Suddenly!
smiles,
rocks back & forth,
hums a musical note.
e-flat.

He stops.
Slaps his leg.
Ha Ha.
No applause.

And anyway, beyond the ropes
the Stones have heard it
all before.