like Kay with ice shards

I keep turning the water writing over in my mind; I feel like Kay with ice shards. I think about how the wires are continuous strands, but their reflection in the water is in pieces--how the thing that looks like it holds meaning is this gorgeous tangle of fragments, how the tantalizing hint of meaning is there precisely because of the brokenness. And maybe it's significant, or maybe it's not, that the medium that causes this is water, which is always whole. My mind is endlessly voluble on this...