What kind of dance will it be?

I wrote this poem as I prepared to have my hair cut and shaved in, when was it?, October?  Oddly, after all was said and done at that point, this poem did not resonate with me.  Getting my haircut and shaved happened to be quite a peaceful and even fun experience.  My friend Karen did the cutting outside with mountain views all around us and the shaving inside while we listened to beautiful music.  She even served me healthy snacks!  

But I have been thinking of this poem more recently.  As I enter back into health (did I ever leave "health?"  Another blog altogether), not having hair feels more troublesome than when I first had it cut.  My reflection in the mirror does not reflect with how I feel inside.  Goodness me, am I learning patience.  

Now I know that there is no answer to the question posed in the title; that the dance will be one thing one day, and another entirely the next.  The idea is: keep moving.  Move through the pain and the heartache; through the ease and the grace - the fierce and the gentle.  And dance when you can.  

What kind of dance will it be?

This morning

the leaves

fell from

the trees

with soft

grace; a

slow dance

with the

gentle rain

and mindful

wind and

I thought,

"may my hair fall from my head like the leaves are falling: with ease and grace."

This afternoon

the leaves

fall with

a fierceness;

a primal

dance with

the sideways

rain and

the forceful

wind and

I think,

"well, perhaps it will be more like that."