The whole world has climbed into their attics or maybe down to the spooky parts of their basements where they found the trunks grandparents and great-grandparents packed up full of questions and answers just in case.

The case in point has arrived. These questions we ask have been asked before. They have been answered, too. Back then some passed the exam, some, sadly, did not. In this case, it will be the same.

So on a day where winter and spring sit on the porch ledge kicking their feet trying to decide who will take their nap first, I set out on my weekly long, solo walk to sort through the trunk my forbears left for me.

The simplicity that has descended into me feels like it knew what it was doing when I did not. It seems the basic question is the eternal one: what can I do today, how can I be today that will be best for us?

Yes, me and my trees need to inspire one another and stand tall and strong no matter the strength of wind. To let our acorns or pine cones or helicopter seeds find their purchase in soil composted from all the good stuff and bad discarded on our way to here, this moment when we go through our grandparents trunks hoping they left us directions for preserving tomatoes or making hand soap from Castile or constructing a chicken coop.

Stephen Fuller began writing poetry as a teenager in New Hampshire and kept at it throughout a 27 year career in the Navy.  During that time he found homes for poems in Scholastic, Powhatan Review, Skipping Stones, Portfolio, and the Virginia Pilot.  For a year he actively blogged as Sailorpoet and was instrumental in the vision of the Go Dog Go Cafe. Following retirement from active duty, he began pursuing a writing career in earnest.  You can read more of his writing at Fullbeard Lit.