after Anne Sexton

God has a green voice, the shades
and waves I see from a deck in Vermont,

the leaf lingering bordering the field that holds
a pond, the wispy-end stalks too long, needing cutting

by the tractor that creates concentric paths in the grass.
Green is everywhere, even on the surface—

a reflected wall of branches, arms entwined. And there’s the green-
throated duck skirting and skimming, the busy feet

invisible like my parents’ ashes
settled under the clean water.

Sarah Dickenson Snyder has two poetry collections, The Human Contract and Notes from a Nomad. She was selected for the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference both times she applied. One poem was nominated for best of Net in 2017. Recent work appears in Chautauqua Literary Magazine, RHINO, and The Sewanee Review.