I am still at the spot.
05 : 51 a.m.

I have counted, here on the spot, 5 hours and 39 minutes.
Does that mean I am half-way there, through the night, dayward onto morning?
More than half-way, aren't I?

What has happened at the spot this night?
Less reading than I expected.
More communication with angels of the night.
Angels of my life in the night.
Some for lack of sleep.
Some for celebrating time off.
Some from habit. Those were the more silent of the angels.

A diaper has been changed.
Coffee has been consumed.
So have bananas, kiwis, oat biscuits and cheese.
Water and apple juice.

Spot on, still
..kH

I welcome myself back to this spot.
The spot in front of the computer.
The spot where my working nights are spent.
The spot of spots.
The spot where books are read.
The spot of all spots.
The spot where I communicate without speaking a word.
The spot of mimes. The spot of chimes. The spot of slowly passing times.

It is at this fixed spot that I will now count the next 7 hours and 50 minutes.
I count them through reading, writing, and contemplation.
Perhaps I will change a diaper or two.
It happens.
Perhaps I will collect some trash.
It certainly happens.
Perhaps I will gather some dirty linen.
It usually happens.

The spot of spots.
This very spot.
At twelve past midnight,
..kH