I love, love, love this poem by Kathleen Norris.

Bean Song

A bean does not know much,
but it remembers the winter.
It sweats in secret, its skin grow tough
and smooth as it pushes up against the darkness,
against the weight of the universe.
Somehow it displaces just a little earth,
and everything shifts to one side.

The bean flower stands up
to see if it's in the middle of a field,
or in someone's pot;
it is beautiful and bitter,
and dies after a while,
but the bean keeps singing to itself
and song about the stars,
and the cities, and the people
who live in sunlight.
No one hears it singing,
only a few ever hear its song.

At night, when I sleep alone,
I sing it for you.