Know me not name me
I’m surrounded by birds.
I can hear their beating wings, their squawking and tweeting, pecking, drumming.
Flocks of birds. Birds I haven’t seen before, black and white birds, birds that creep up trees, birds that peck at gutters, yellow-headed birds.
I have no idea what they’re all called.
And that’s OK because once I name them, they die, in a way.