But here is a sonnet, which may be standalone or may not...
Some mirrors, standing among trees.
In interlocking circles. No one sees
The interlocking circles of the space
between the mirrors, yet your face
if you should walk past moves from glass to air
you cannot see it mirrored; it is there
implied, contained, continued. Comes again
and goes. And if you walk past in the rain
you're mirrored there in every single drop
on glass, in air. Reflections never stop,
but glitter on and pass your face between
image of image. Look upon the scene
and never see how many times you show
We are more in the world than we can know.