A fraying string
toyed with by wind
spins round again
ensnared on fence
downpour drenched
distending knot
untwining not
inclined to snap
than extricate
this thinning weave
from plastic grip
or captured kite
enlacing trees
bereft of leaves
left tempest rent
blindsiding storm
no forecast warns
or skies previse
as clouds unravel
dazzling sun
from puzzled eyes
of childish
simplicity
that plainly sees
a treasured strand
plucked from its hand
two hours spent
embellishing
bright paper framed
these streamers maimed
day ruined how
and that big old
stupid bough
looking like
it wears a tie.