From Pineapple Wine:

There’s a grove of monkey pod trees
over by the Safeway where every day at nightfall
hundreds of birds congregate in hidden folds
of branch, and the updraft of song emanating
from a thousand beaks can draw you in
and knock the air out of you as well as any
commencing organ chord of a Bach mass,
such is their joy, the ecstasy of companionship.
Each bird, coming home from the office,
has so much good news that he can’t wait,
so they all speak at the same time
recounting to wife and family, oldest son,
everyone on their street, all the things that
happened on this perfectly ordinary,
that is to say, exceptionally gorgeous
sun-gloried day, which, to them,
is any day on this island.