I have power buttons and thunder sounds,

And they complain I run too loud.

But I stand still, balanced

On their window sill,

Half in and half out,

In the heat and in the house.

I may not look like a ballerina,

But that is what I am.

I dance my cold air dance

Like a swan in the moon light

My boxy shape and industrious frame

Dances en point in the cool

Relief of restful human dreams.