I arrive from the pocket of mirth

Your incandescent coverlet retains little heat on the barren snowfield I shouted.

If someone shouts on a barren snowfield, does anyone care?

The rays of moltescent sunlight beam from my eyes, melting the pebble upon which I gaze.

Again.

If you think this is a riddle, riddle me again Joker, it's not.

The snow has fallen.

Catch a fiery robot and put it in your pocket of mirth and save it for a snowy day