I wake when I hear
His midnight coughing
I stumble to his bed
Rub his back
Pat his head
I dribble water drops
On his tongue
It’s the pollen, dust, smoke
The heat and bad DNA.
He looks into my eyes
His own rheumy and sorrowful.

“I don’t Know why you cough
So much
It’s just the way some of us are
It makes you a compassionate being.”

he’ll smile his odd grimace, and

I rub his tummy and ears.
Until he’s calmer and the cough is

He licks my hand.
He knows I can’t help him
He can’t help me.

But together we watch
a crescent blood moon
Rest into red rising haze.

Miasma in the West
Miasma was considered to be a poisonous vapor or mist filled with particles that caused illnesses. The Miasmatic position was that diseases were the product of environmental factors such as contaminated water, foul air, and poor hygienic conditions. Such infection was not passed between individuals but would affect individuals who resided within the particular locale that gave rise to such vapors.


  1. believe miasma clouds over us all. bless you and charles in charge. what a grand lad he is! rock on peace and healing energies. the miasma has affected dukes eyes! they are matted and yellowish..I awoke this am at 3ish as the wind came from the northeast once again. the burning smell of forest, prairies..miasmic

    1. Miasma is considered an archaic concept. But I think we’ve brought it back. Our poor silent babies who suffer without a voice, and we have to listen with more than our ears. They are our mirrors, reflecting our illnesses. They represent all of the finest of human traits, do they not?

    1. I know you do. He doesn’t have an inhaler yet. You’ve spent lots of years not being able to breathe. I hope I patted your head once or twice.

  2. Author’s note. I added a bit of the Wiki here. I didn’t want to be accused of making up a word. But this one is a dandy and I sure wish I had.

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