A year or so before his death Ken surprised me by asking what I thought destiny was. I was not the right person to ask, given that I see everything as contingent, and my response was probably inadequate. Reflecting on this yesterday I wrote the following which I dedicate to Ken:
Fair winds or foul will bring your little skiff
into its safe harbour.
Best wishes, Stuart.
That's really lovely.
As a small boat sailor I can't overcome my scepticism, much as I would like to. But I offer a new haiku, a combination of observation in the New Forest and studying Caravaggio's The Conversion of Saint Paul. Probably too obscure.
rip rip the grass -
piebald pony, its white mane
an angel's wing
Too obscure for this uncultured fellow!
My haiku is not meant to be factual but a metaphor. (I spent much time with my dad messing about in boats when I was a kid.)