“Sough” is a word often used to describe the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. It’s a deliciously onomatopoeic word, unusually well suited for its use. The best part is that there is no perfect agreement on how the word, like the sound it describes, should be produced by the human mouth. So that, if you say “sough” to rhyme with “rough,” that might bring to mind a mild, winter breeze through a patch of dark spruce, tucked down into a creek path. Or you might pronounce “sough” like “cough” to evoke a more staccato, gusty whirl of poplar leaves, tossing on spring branches. “Sough” as in “sought” could only be the sound of the type of wind that rocks one trunk against another in an otherwise peaceful forest. Rhymed with “bough,” “sough” is like the low, moaning wind at night that raps twigs against windows; and “sough” as in “through” is the high, keening wail of only the topmost branches that seems to come from mid-air on a clear day. The sound, like the word like the wind is elusive and suffuse: all as one yet with muti-faceted meanings and mood. A common, strange thing: a cough sought through rough boughs?