Cultivator of all souls

Soul-searching sentient being

finds all not wholly lost,

just drifting lonely,

unannounced in the dust.

Like a soft, tight petal,

it wills not to expose

its reproductive potential,

for once given away,

the flower’s color fades to grey.

Dressed to dance with tumbleweeds

in the road of detachment and decay,

another’s momentum weaves and spins

a windy web which misdirects and pushes

both pollen and pollinator west

to a chance crossing of paths, brief destiny.

Yellow powder, amber nectar, golden sunshine

gracing the hillsides long in slumber,

grass stretching its tired blades

donning spring’s dew,

mimicking the lunar tide,

to and fro, everything is mesmerized.


Dig deep within the fibrous roots 

and tease apart a grounded truth

that no human can play a partial role,

for they must be a planter of crops

and the cultivator of all souls. 

About tyler4turtles

I am an avid photographer, poet, ecologist, bookworm, blogger, art enthusiast and runner who calls Montana home but lives in Oregon.
This entry was posted in Nature poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Cultivator of all souls

  1. So beautiful…thanks for posting this today.

  2. Aliera says:

    This poem is lovely. Thanks for sharing.

  3. words4jp says:

    the last two sentences tie up the piece beautifully. it seems that we have this habit of just floating thinking that what we want or need will just come our way – most of the time it does not. we need to go out and do own planting – find our own way – discover what it is we are looking for, because if we just wait and leave it to chance? – we may spend many years disappointed.

    • Thank you, Kim! You summed up my poem beautifully. We must be a complete human being born into an environment of both words and actions. We can own our choices but are still renters on this planet. This soil belonged to bacteria and botanical garden before our knowhow invented the plow and stocked school cafeterias 🙂

  4. “dressed to dance with the tumbleweeds”–such a visual metaphor, and as mellifluously wistful as a tumbler on a dusty ole road.

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