The Breadmaker's Daughter - Great Cold Emptiness

A dark wind blows

A woman gathers her clothes before the coming storm

Her curtains dance

She shouts her husband’s name

To a plaguelike sky

Thunder rolls on by

Her daughter rests by the shoreline

A sun waits behind an iron armada

His gentle kiss blows away from her

When she sleeps, her mother curses the northern winds

A pasture, a well and the first harvest of the year

To dream is to die alone

To stay is to die inside

She could almost touch the color of the wheat

Before it faded into the grey

A man of oak stood next to her

A hand on her shoulder, she was beckoned into the night