Alexander Russo

I often wonder who came up
with that expression
for so many things,

reminding me of WWII,
the invasion of Normandy,
bombs exploding all around,
and I survived,

would have raised my hand
in a high five, but no living soul
was near to join me,

nor was there anyone
when I advanced with troops
to Verville-Sur-Mere,
dodging under trucks, or into protective
doorways to keep from being
blasted by enemy bombers.

Not until I reached a farmhouse
atop a hill and was offered brandy
by two elderly French peasants,
whose home had been spared,
the woman, smiling
as she held her glass and looked straight at me.

It was then, inspired, I took her hand,
raised it up
and touched mine to hers in a “high five,”
said softly, ”God Bless,”
and kissed her forehead.