“Christmas Sleet and Snow”
One poem made up of six cinquain

Cold sleet
falling down on
a lone rooftop nestled
in the hills. That is the place I
call home.

Is this
where God wants me
to stay and do my part?
I ask, and the answer is, “Yes.
It is.”

Who knew
life held so much
trouble, sorrow, despair?
One knew, and conquered all of these:
Jesus.

The night
darkens every
day, but one night fell
darker yet: At the sacrifice of
our Lord.

Christmas,
Jerusalem,
a bursting forth of life,
direct light of a distant star:
A Child.

Snowflakes
falling down on
a lone rooftop nestled
in the hills. That is the place I
call home.