I Like - Patty LeBon Herb

[Lawrence Robinson]

I Like

I like the line that struggles on the canvas and page.
I like the trailing smoke of burning sage. 

I like when things smell like earth 
even when its rot, even if it’s not.

I like a stern man that blushes. 
I like the voice that can’t carry a tune.

I like unnoticed kind acts. 
I like to watch things bloom.

I like seeing a color for the first time 
like the tiny talons of a pigeon.

I like to hear the clock tick, that there’s still 
a clock that ticks and tocks. I like the tock best. 

I like retold stories of my family’s past. 
I like Hey Ya by the band Outkast.

I like folding clothes not putting them away.
I like free tables and things on the fray.

I like when there are no words in the language 
for what I want to say.

I like the film where the boy doesn’t get the girl, 
they walk away in wonder.

I like when I lose, it means I won twice
not everything has to be so nice.

I like a chilled slice of a French apple-tart 
and twentieth century art.

I like to coordinate my lips, tongue and mouth 
to speak foreign words.

I like the word zhawendaagoziwin which means 
“love” in Anishinaabemowin. 

I like the birch tree half alive, bumblebees 
far from the hive, everything that tries.
I like strong strings strung; ballads well sung. 
No longer pretending to be young.

I like that against all odds, the dangling branch 
hangs on the flowering tree.

I like left-overs, second hand-clothes, 
warm cider with scented cloves.

I like early morning sounds of Spring.
I like the word mom. 

I like the ancient mystery on the turtle’s back. 
I like when kids come back.

I like when I know to leave things open —
ended.


	- Patty LeBon Herb
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