A poem for Thursday

We go to Spain every June and stay in the hills up above Marbella in a beautiful apartment belonging to family. We look out over the valley to the "Pueblo" Mijas. There is a bull ring there. I've  never been to a fight, but we once had a look around it and saw the bull-fighters' outfits hanging in the dressing room. They were amazingly created and embroidered with colour and beads and gold worked through it all. I thought I understood perhaps a little more about how the Spanish see this ancient sport. It's full of custom and tradition and theatre. But I could never bear to go to see an animal killed for sport. I'm not a vegetarian and never will be. Does that make me a hypocrite. That's not  a question as I don't need an answer.  But is the influence in Spain that of the outsiders who now flock to have a share in that stunning land of sun and mountain?  Or have the Spanish themselves thought ,"enough is enough"?

Anyway on a lighter note, is this haiku or not ? I need the poetry community to put me right!

bullfighting will go

underground the spanish know -

 how to dig big holes