Glenn Hubbard has lived in Madrid for 30 years and has been writing poems since 2012. Though fluent in Spanish, he is poetic only in English and has had poems published in a number of magazines. Nature and landscapes are often an inspiration for his writing. Spain has a lot of both.
Beyond the Window
Out there somewhere is a blackcap. Perhaps
we scared it off the way we clap each evening.
I tend to think we deserve something like that
delightful fluting since we have been in our flats for weeks,
staring out at the trees, not flouting the rules, not going
on outings round the block, watching and worrying,
as we try to work out what the world will be like.
I have my binoculars to hand should he start up from down
in the empty park, but I think he might be an early morning
bird, already bored with singing by the time the man
at the newspaper kiosk arrives to lower his awnings
and the yawning dog owners appear with plastic
poo bags and, if they have remembered, dogs.
The barking is the forgotten ones, at windows.
The acacias have come into bloom and are now
almost out of it, the flowers saddening with each
day, those that survived the wood pigeon feeding
frenzy, which was only halted temporarily
by a male magpie intent on creating an exclusion zone
around the the site of its nest, his best
not good enough to stop the bloomfest.
Soon we shall be clapping, drowning the
singing of the blackbird with a lot to say.