Work-life balance implies static harmony — stacked stones upon the sea shore. Yet a strong wind, or a dogs leg, can cause a tumble.

Work-life dancing is more my ideal: graceful gliding across the floor, neither too much stillness nor stumbling; smooth transitions reacting to the world’s music.

So I seek to dance with grace, and recognizing a child’s dance (as it discovers its body) has its own grace, I acknowledge I am still but a babe.

I look forward to my death
For wallowing in the past
Means I miss the opportunity
To see her coming
And (perhaps) prolong the time
Before our inevitable date