Mirror In the Grass

What was that, glinting in a front yard near the sidewalk? There, in the winter grass, were the remains of a mirror, frameless and shattered into pieces. I bent down to look more closely, multiplying my own reflection for a moment. As cars rolled by, I looked at the blue sky and lacy tree branches overhead captured on the surface of each shard. 
The broken mirror offered up hundreds of slightly different versions of the world above and around me. This may be a metaphor for something about how we can or do see the world...