Tao Yuanming's image is of a man walking back toward his own gate, recognising the smoke from his kitchen before he sees the door. The stick places that image in front of you while you're asking about work, and the placement matters. The verse isn't promising you a new role or a windfall offer; it's reflecting the quiet recognition you've already been having — that some part of your working life has drifted from what you actually wanted it to look like, and you know it.
Moderately good, not great, because the return is available but not automatic. Tao didn't drift home; he wrote a resignation in his head long before he handed it in. If you sit with the verse, notice what 'home' means in a career sense for you right now. It might be a kind of work, a pace, a set of people, a city, a craft you stopped practising. The stick is asking you to name it plainly, without the usual hedging about salary bands and timing.
The softer reading: you may not need to walk away from anything dramatic. Sometimes returning home means refusing one more meeting that erodes you, or stopping the performance of caring about a project you stopped believing in months ago. The boat reaches the pier in small movements, not one grand turn of the rudder.