I can't get enough of this piece of music. I start every ...

I can't get enough of this piece of music. I start every morning with it. And this poem (because I like the tritina so much more than the sestina):
Roundstone Cove
The wind rises. The sea snarls in the fogfar from the attentive beaches of childhood--no picnic, no striped chairs, no sand, no sun.
Here even by day cliffs obstruct the sun; moonlight miles out mocks this abyss of fog.I walk big-bellied, lost in motherhood,
hunched in a shell of coat, a blindered hood. Alone a long time, I remember s...