The writing guru says become a morning person, write before the business of the day gets in the way, before sunlight chases away last night’s dreams. But I have more ambition than that. I won’t become a morning person; I’ll become morning personified. I’ll look like a sunrise seen through a hospital window. I’ll smell like coffee and pipesmoke on the porch, like bacon and toast inside the screen door. I’ll sound like schoolbuses and garbage trucks picking up, like the robo voice saying hurry through crosswalks. You’ll hear a rat-tat-tat outside and think the construction crew broke out their jackhammers way too early. Your hangover will rise up and you’ll raise the window in a way that conveys that you’re angry though you haven’t yet cleared your throat. You’ll see a woodpecker rat-tat-tatting on a utility pole, and you’ll think this day, at least part of it, will go well.