POHUTUKAWA CHRISTMAS TREE Your twisted trunk stands naked to the wind and sun, And His sweet body too knew shameful elevation. Your tortured branches and His outstretched arms Speak agony of hours. Your roots hump out as did His feet In sudden awkward spasm; and for you both, Pohutukawa and the Man your final glory, Culmination of the Christmas story, Lies in scarlet flowers. Fay Clayton.