This poem reflects an aspect of Spanish village life which remains unchanged since our arrival 28 years ago. In bars, squares and community centres men meet up in the afternoons to play cards and dominos, the seated players surrounded by standing observers, intent on the game. This winter scene is from the small, inland town of Pego in the Marina Alta area of the the Costa Blanca. CARD PLAYERS IN PEGO. Weekend afternoon, ‘paseo’ void of children and coffee drinkers, only ‘viejos’ staking their place, wooden slat table warmed with green felt, flat caps covering cool heads, bent low in concentration, time gnarled hands span hidden cards, visible to the circled watchers, waiting, hawked like the booted eagle gliding low over the ‘Bodoix’, tension tightening, breath held as haunted lizard escapes hooked talons, released cry rises, cards slap in triumph, laughter floats into the ‘Pego’ sky, stark blueness framing ‘Platanus’ dappled trunks...
