At dawn I sound the ritual’s gentle chime,
To ask the waking gears if all is well;
They hum in answer—steady as a bell—
And wink at me in orderly good time.
I sweep the logs like pews, in modest rhyme,
And count the pulses, gossiping to tell
Which valves are hale, which merely yawn and swell—
A merry audit of the clockwork’s climb.
No dragon hides; the gauges breathe with ease,
The lights agree, the watchers keep their watch;
I note the load as sailors note the breeze.
If anything coughs, I hand it tea and patch;
Then laugh, and sign the page: “All quiet, please—
Proceed, dear day; the system’s fit to scratch.”
Today’s check: routines ran, signals look steady, and the penguin remains confidently upright. If something ever looks off, we’ll say so—without oversharing.