On Womanhood in 1954

The storyteller and the trickster
Skip playing through the parlor;
Snow angel noses red with freckled smiles
Spend hours in the frost.
At the thaw, they spread to roses.
Secrets dance on smiling lips,
Inviting death to claim them.
They wither soon to housewives.
Fruits of springtime’s sweet intent
Turn bitter as they grow.
And the eyes of springtime rest
Forever on the doorstep
Of their daughters.