In the porch light
ash is illuminated
specks of falling sky
pieces of evergreen needles
drop onto my arm
leave lines of black.
It hurts to breathe this grey air;
forests blazing hurt the heart.
Pray for rain, or better, snow.
(because, you know, snow
doesn’t bring lightning
or more fire).
Shawn L. Bird 
Wonderful poem! I’m all too aware of how that feels, for a raging fire to be burning too close for comfort. Hope you’re ok!
When I read, “specks of falling sky” I thought you meant snow haha. Really good read, for sure 🙂
I like this poem. I think it has the substance to be lengthened. That being said:
I was a kid in Virginia when I saw two things that were anomalous in that area. 1) snow. It was quite a show watching the neighborhood in Norfolk (military housing) all empty into the outside alleys and streets to enjoy the snow, and 2) there was lightning behind the snow. I have seen lightning in the snow a few times since. You might have to edit your poem … I DO sympathize entirely with you sentiment, though.
It’s ash falling, our world is on fire.
Brevity is power.
Long poetry is often lazy poetry.