Nod

Untitled | Chloe Wade | Painting

Nod by Wren Buehler

twas winter in the land of Nod

far from watchful eye of God

past savage forest Duidain

when brotherless ignoble Cain

lay sitting, lonesome, on the rocks

conversing with the wild Fox

"o solitary Fox," said he

"is any man as poor as me?

away from watchful eye of God

I lounge here in infertile Nod.

“my Wife," he cried, "has left me here,

and stolen from me Enoch dear."

the Fox, a tawny, noisome thing,

replied "o Cain, you savage king,

there is no man as poor as thou,

with salt-sweat crust upon your brow,

nor any beast as poor as I,

nor any desert half as dry

as treeless, barren, yellowed Nod,

the land which blisters far from God,

look at us!" the Fox so yelped,

"our restlessness cannot be helped:

as I need hawks and wolves" said Tod,

"you need the watchful eye of God."