Here's a little something from Don't Panic:

Talk about a glacial pace, a forward momentum that is invisible to human perception in the here now what now, but what if that pace was speeding up, how we might see the ice caps melting over the Antarctic sea, how we might see the blocks of ice cracking and heaving, and a hot dry wind beginning to blow. And as we talk about the glacial pace of progress, the diplomats and NGOs just standing around the lobby exchanging cards, the politicians with their eyes on the next campaign, the next quarter’s earnings, the next port of call, another pace is quickening.

I find myself starting poems in the car and not being able to write them down until later, when I've forgotten the poem I wrote in the car and have to approximate it with something else. Such are the hazards and the rewards of a 30-45 minute commute to San Ramon.