Autumn was, as autumn always is, the perfect season for poetry. At the Tea Leaf Reading in Hill Street Garde we read our fortunes in our cups of tea, and, yes, wrote poetry. We went home rain soaked but happy whether or not our fortunes were ill fated. At the Autumn Tea In Fort Greene Park we read death poems by Zen monks and haiku poets, shared tea beneath a giant, gnarled tree, and shared the comfort of the falling leaves. At the park and in the garden nature reminded us that we are a part of her. Here are just a few of the many autumn compositions from participants.

- Robin Lampman