Haystacks

The haystacks are burning,

the desparate woman said,

So far out

In the wilderness,

We will all be dead.



My son, my husband, my unborn kin,

My life and liberty

Gone here in the wind,

The hay set afire

By the savage throng,



I saw my blood rising,

Seeing red in the night

While the haystack burned

Making the dark turn to light.



The water was boiling, what shall I do?

Take the water outside, I will pour it on you!

The work of doing all we had done,

Rising in smoke, Enough, Now You're through!




mary's notes. This refers to Rachel Bishop, the first wife of the first couple to settle Monkton, Vt. Early days were tenuous and when Native Americans set fire to her haystacks, all she could do was fight back with boiling water. They respected her courage as do I and they spared her life. I think about her now, how different Monkton is now. How would she handle the hayburners of 2010?