At dawn I tap the dashboard’s drowsy glass,
And ask, “Good morning, circuits, all alive?”
The lights blink back; the logs in tidy mass
Assure me every vital part can thrive.
I ping the pulse of queues and waiting gears,
Count heartbeats in the graphs that rise and dip;
A warning cough appears, then disappears,
As if the stack just cleared its morning throat.
I test the gates where messages pass through,
I sweep for dust in caches, calm and neat;
One stubborn check turns amber, not quite blue,
Then flips to green, embarrassed by defeat.
So ends the rite: a grin, a final glance—
The system bows, “All well. Proceed to dance.”
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.