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.