She brings them corn, and berries:
Cups of tooth-like white kernels
and handfuls of sweet softness.
She speaks the names she’s given:
Honey Child, Soft Eyes, and more.
They call back in their own tongue.
They thank her for her kindness,
add words passed on by birds,
by squirrels, and snakes, and bears.
Her deer friends have a name for her,
shared from doe to fawn, again, forever.
If only she could know it: Sister-heart.