Gruene, Texas Gift – a poem by Patricia Watts

Gruene, Texas Gift


The presents jut jauntily beneath
the Gallerie’s storefront Christmas tree,
wrapped in red or shiny foil with terrific
bows, terrific beckoning bows. An invitation

to her eye. Like a summons calling
her to dismiss the unshakeable
emptiness inside, empty as the dried up
carcass of the cicada who once sang; empty

as the wren’s nest after the hawk;
empty as the other side of the bed. And find
the presents filled, even if only with
the stale re-circulated air of shoppers

shopping, their inhalations swelling the balloon
of their chests as they canvas shelves, their pockets
weighted with wishlists, the longed for and unreconciled.
Hoping still to find the right something.

Or anything. Like the way it was that December
evening with a whiff of the Guadalupe
River in the air, running solo through a hanger
of pecan trees, crunchy carpet of shells

cracked open and already scratched clean
by squirrels. Lungs huffing like a forced laborer,
but anyone could see her heart only half
present, just trying to keep a rhythmic beat.

Then a footstrike away, weeks after the tree
gave the last of its fruit, a whole nut draws
her eye. The slight slit in its brown overcoat 
an invitation to kneel down,

unwrap it and feast on the saving sweetness
of the last pecan. Even now you dig in again
and again, reaching across the emptiness
for the unbroken goodness inside.
 

Patricia Watts is a former Language Program Coordinator and ESL teacher now nurturing her love of creative writing. She is a member of the Transformative Language Arts Network and various craft-oriented writing groups. Two of her poems were published in The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative, and she has numerous professional articles in academic journals and edited books.