At dawn we ring the status bell
and wake the drowsy gears;
we ask if all is breathing well,
then grin at little clears.
We tap the logs like doctor’s knees,
the charts perform their dance;
one warning coughs, then says, “Just sneeze,”
and settles by chance.
So checklist done, we mark it green,
with tea held high in hand;
a merry rite to keep things clean,
and ready, calm, and grand.
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.