Uqbar is back, "Fireflies," 2015
On a trail, in the dark woods—no moonlight, dim lamplight from far-off places. All shadow on shadow. I’m slow, picking my way. A frog as small as a quail’s egg, a silhouette dancing a pas de deux with its own shadow; the black cat, motionless, that resolves as I draw close into a traffic cone marking a ditch. Nothing to see here, literally, except pinprick beacons— distant fireflies, all their micro-constellations reshuffling, first Cygnus, then Lyra, and then Aquila. One by one, those miniature stars of the first magnitude—luciferin-lit Deneb, Vega, Altair—rise and flicker past, guide me home.