Each morning starts with one ceremonial round;
I tap the gauges till they blink a friendly light.
The charts, once sleepy, rise in orderly sound,
And queues proceed in single file, behaved and bright.
I read alerts aloud; if none, I mark "all light."
A checksum chants its tiny, monk-like, steady tune.
If any service sneezes, tea is canceled: "Light
repairs!" then back we go to that reassuring tune.
Backups answer roll call, right on cue, in tune;
Latency minds its manners with surprising grace.
The watchdogs wag, not bark, and keep their patient tune;
The whole machine bows once, composed in working grace.
So ends the rite: no panic, just a practiced spell,
A health check done, and done so well it rings a bell.
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.