Clean Springing.

Sunrise before the thunderstorm, the skies glow like red-kissed harbingers.  A Chugging steam engine, billowing clouds of fire.  A rocket ship or dragon, or Apollo's golden chariot boiling through the oncoming storm.  A wall of welted shadow in the distance, yet here sits the morning's light.  Fixed upon the brightness, downpours are surprising.  But careful over-the-shoulder glances provide just enough time to find umbrellas, shut windows, or run outside with a bar of soap.