Ethics, Values, & Sustainability
Environmental Strategy & Sustainability
Systems Thinking & Sustainable Businesses
Last Updated 01/14/2006
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GROUP 3
Karma and kind
People would mind
If they suddenly fell
Into a dark world of Braille.
Pattern and prose
Are all that we know
In this bright world of sight
Creating its own night.
An artist once observed
Whey steal what we deserve?
Sarah Edwards
O serenity!
The scent of two skins tightly
Nestled together
Over the course of a long
Night, reluctantly parting.
John Szygiel
The sand falling though
My hands falling through the sand.
Endless tides create
endless views of what’s fleeting
though sights departs with aging.
John Szygiel
Blue fuzzy tendrils
Cover apple cores and cheese:
Penicillin grows.
Blaire Skinner
Stuck in my apartment
Nothing to see but walls
I wish to be outside with the sunset
But all I see is another snowfall.
In the summer there would be rainbows.
Mark Skiffinton
What I know
is vibrations through the air
Long, short,
Coming through to the brain
High, low,
Loud, soft.
Far, near.
What they are, I can’t say, only hear.
The rest is just gaps
filled by brain synapses.
Still my most enjoyable moments are the
Loud, high
Light, broken
Vibrations the brain calls laughter.
Abby Sawyers
Without my eyes, I feel:
I feel the yarn, so soft, long and connected,
Bound in the skein,
woven in and out.
In and out.
The needles grab the yarn,
pushed by my fingers,
weaving it around,
And through one another.
My fingers can tell the movement was a success
A new knot formed
The process continues, carefully and quickly,
More yarn slips though my fingers
The pattern forms,
Long, soft, like the yarn itself
My fingers, the yarn, the needles,
Work as one on my lap, until the
Hardness of the needle and tenseness of
My hands force me to stop,
Until another time when my hands
stop aching for rest,
and start aching for yarn.
Abby Sawyers
Eyes closed
A handful of sand
Sifts through my fingers
Individual grains combine to form this beautiful beach
Each one insignificant in itself,
Yet related to every other grain of sand
I feel its texture, the soft sensuality of the beach.
I feel like a grain of sand,
Insignificant in the great span of the universe
And inextricably tied to all that is
All that was
All that ever will be.
Alex Grace
Peeling back the layers
I peel back a story.
Unfolding in front of me
Are images of the men and women,
The trees, row upon row,
The bundles all covered in their bags,
The journey: truck to plane to truck.
I am consuming sweat and labor,
Sunshine and rain,
As I bite in:
Squishing its softness between my teeth,
Letting its richness envelope my mouth,
I worship my banana.
Brynna Larsen
Weightless
She wades out past the breakers
this will be her version
of a lunar excursion
the water’s weight takes hers
lifting gently toward the sky
a small shrug, wondering why
Leah Hart
A single coneflower amidst a thousand,
Purple flowers casting shadow upon its nearest kin,
Each leaf lost in a never ending sea,
The first part of our tradegy.
Lucas Roe
I crack a smile and don’t know why.
A hidden comfort just passed me by.
It arouses a feeling deep down inside
Of a distant memory I thought I left behind.
Joy, sorrow, love or pain; whatever it may be
It brings comfort because it’s close to me.
My memories are floating unrestricted in the air
I breath to remind myself they are there.
Matt Beaton
Taste
A simple thing an apple is.
But never the same to anyone
Always different textures, colors, smells.
Differences for all to see –
yet all can acknowledge them.
The apple is different to today,
But tomorrow each would see the same
In taste lies the mystery.
The same apple tart today,
Sweet tomorrow.
One never knows.
Each of the other four senses –
Objective; taste – Subjective.
The apple tastes different every time
The situation is different
Taste is shaped by the surroundings
Most instances in life are shapes by the senses.
Not taste.
Tim Puchter
I take a whiff and there’s the scent of change
Slowly stealthfully creeping into my nose.
Not yet purity but progress at least
And the hope of things to come.
Sharon Tiedt
The scent of spring is in the air
That old familiar smell
That odor I wait for every year
To mark the winters end
The scent of spring runs though me
It seems so fresh and new
And in my soul I feel it fill
I feel a little newer too
Lisa Ashenbrenner
A long day on the lake
The sun has gone
Friends gather around the campfire
Everyone has a turn in the smoke
Wet wood and dry wood
Leaves and paper plates
Each smell different and the same
Later smores get passed around
Sweet smells of marshmallows
And chocolate join the smoke
Mostly unnoticed.
Travis North
Stoic Sylvannia
On my back in the middle of Sylvania
snowshoes in the air on a frozen lake
face focused on the sky, mind clear
I listen, I am miles away from civilization in this wilderness
peace, quiet, serenity
the birds, the wind through the trees
the cruching sound of my friends feet on snow
the beautiful sound of nature’s “silence”
The forest around me is alive
a woodpecker in the distance
my coat rustles as a strain to take it all in
my ears are ringing, they have never heard this much serenity
And then, I am shaken from my reverie
Chelsey Wolfgram
The strongest memory
I find the lipgloss that I used then
and as it touches my lips, he is kissing me, too.
Passionfruit.
It is a scent
that carries with it a voice,
a touch,
a caress,
a smile,
a sweet nothing in my ear.
Leah Hart
The visual relationship with Madison is one that will never be forgotten.
So many styles: clothes, haircuts, big trees, flowers, and the Lakes.
Is this what keeps the world spinning?
The green of spring.
The white of winter.
And red on thousands of individuals on a badger Saturday.
People come from all over to see Madison,
Many fall in love with the city,
Many never leave.
James Harrod
The Aroma of True Love
It smells…
Like a freshly baked cake when found,
Like flowers when all is well.
Like a farm when bad events go down.
Like a fire when you meet,
Like a vineyard after years.
Like road-kill when you cheat.
Ted Condon
