Know me not name me

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.