At dawn we ring the status bell,
and wake the blinking lights;
We ask the works, “Are all things well?”
They yawn, “Through most the nights.”
We check each pulse, each waiting queue,
each job that ought to run;
No cough of doom comes bursting through,
just chores already done.
So mark it fair: the realm is sound,
the gremlins stayed away;
We stamp the log, then make a round,
and test again at day.
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.