She leans over the rail
To watch the rain disturb the lake
And scatter the students who gather up in haste
While branches start to flail.

She sees a turtle bob
A brown and placid oligarch
His riches safe somewhere with balanced charts,
Safe from rain or fraud.

She thinks it far more likely he is poor
and has nothing to lose from any storm,

Unlike the ones who ran
To shelter laptops from the rain.
She shares more secrets: both of joy and pain,
with turtles than with them.