Wipers at full tilt,
thumping against the window's edge,
creating a rhythm
that sews the songs together
and seems to keep the tempo
of the motor, itself.

Hundred miles left
and the knowledge
that most of it will be done
tomorrow,
after we find somewhere to bed down,
make some tea,
deal some cards,
and wrap up in our cosy blanket
for the night.

A thunder storm
could see us to sleep
just right.