It’s the Pōhutukawa tree that does it for me… our very own Christmas Tree

Where else on the planet would there be a tree that speaks to me, and understands I have been 28 years at sea.

I thought I was destined to roam, but as it turned out I found my way home.

To Wellington, the great harbour of Tara, but also named after our past master.

A town named after a Duke that would make most Kiwi’s puke, but never mind, its a ship of line that our character is defined.

And I did my time here in my youth, and some would say I was a touch uncouth, and that’s probably the truth.

Actually, it’s the garage beer that brings me here, a beverage I would like to be near.

They call it Wellywood, but my purpose for being here is little understood.

I should really live in New York as my wife is a banker, and she’s the anchor.

But what sort of tree would I talk to in New York… I think I’d rather shake hands with an Ork.

No, it’s the Pōhutukawa tree with its stamen bright, surely the future is in sight.

You know everything is all right, when I drive around Oriental Bay in the twilight.

And when I look at my daughter, and I see her shine, I know that coming back to New Zealand was always in my mind.

Wishing you all the very best for the festive season

The Wandering Palate