OK

The day feels frail and ominous,
The fast clouds over wildfire plumes,
And all its other texts appear
Like neighborhoods of darkened homes,
Shadowed faces in the windows.

Well, that’s poetry isn’t it?
The dire and merely fanciful,
Although it would be better if
There were a few humans in it,
Maybe a recent incident,

A vivid childhood memory
Or another somebody done
Somebody wrong poem. Bit cliche,
The fast clouds, wildfires and all that,
But ominous is ominous.