No horses here
maybe an antlered moose
in the distance
stopping when it catches
a hint of our scent
there’s no color this winter
just white kissing
steep slabs of mountain
formed from the shifting
of earth by faraway gods
we are tiny in this valley
the wind could lift us
and carry us for miles
and over time we
would become stone
caressed by the cold
and we’d mimic the mountains
and fall in love with
the snow



Leslie Dianne is a playwright, poet, novelist, screenwriter and performer whose work has been acclaimed internationally at the Harrogate Fringe Festival in Great Britain, The International Arts Festival in Tuscany, Italy, The Teatro Lirico in Milan, Italy and at La Mama, ETC in NYC.  Her stage plays have been produced in NYC at The American Theater of Actors, The Raw Space, The Puerto Rican Traveling Theater and The Lamb’s Theater, and at Theater Festivals in Texas and Indiana. She holds a BA in French Literature from CUNY and her poetry appears in The Wild Word, Sparks of Calliope, The Elevation Review, Quaranzine, The Dillydoun Review, Line Rider Press, Flashes and elsewhere.  Her writing was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net.