If one can request such things,
in my next incarnation as a human
(if I may be so presumptuous),
please make me a morning person.

This world is geared to mornings,
for better or worse, and for those of us
who aren’t really conscious till almost
midday, the requirement to rise with some

degree of cheer and false liveliness—
with or without stimulants—presents
a problem from early school days
to the world of adult work that

begins, shockingly for us, at 8 a.m.
That newspaper job that required me
to be at my desk by 7:30 pecking out a
story for the paper that ran through

the presses by noon damn near killed me.
It’s not because I want to stay up late
writing or reading or working. It’s what
this body has done of its own accord

in this lifetime. I don’t mind the late/
early hours of a new day, sitting in
the mostly dark with a single light
over the computer, a cat curled up

on a soft blanket next to me (not
much of a night owl in her dotage).
I get a lot of work done. But oh,
the rising to be part of a world

charged with sunlight, ready to
forge into a day. I do it to be with
people I love who delight in
morning walks or exercise

or for required appointments,
secretly hoping for an afternoon
nap, which sometimes happens.
But, dear gods of circadian rhythms,

if you’d do your magical best to
make my next body morning-ready,
I’d be most grateful. Oh, and perhaps
give me an affection for coffee, too.

That might help.