On my recent trip to Townsville, I walked along the ocean front and wondered at the great variety of boats out on the water. There were boats being rowed

and paddled

and raced.

There were little boats with sails and huge ships

And even memorials to ancient boats

to remind us that people have travelled these waters for a long, long time.

And all this boaty-wonder, in turn, brought to mind yet another favourite childhood poem, this time by Robert Louis Stevenson. I think this one made me tingle because of the amazing word-picture it created. I could see that river, and those little boats bobbing along, off to some far-flung place. My version of Stevenson’s Child’s Garden of Verses shows the boats as made of leaves, but I also remember thinking of them as paper boats or just little toy boats.

I love how something like watching boats on the ocean can bring back a poem I’ve loved since I was really young. That’s the magic of good poetry.