It has been overcast for a few days, almost like winter in Scandinavia, and to much the same effect on our spirits. But I cannot reasonably complain, since the workload is bearable. Just dispatched one round of short papers, and I don't expect another one for a week or two. Since I have a good amount of leisure time, I have spent some of it trying to put others in better moods. For some upper class friends, it's time to study for the GREs, so I tell them, whenever they're feeling down, to remember: They're GREat!

Naturally, not everyone has to face the GREs. SGA officers in particular are usually super busy, and they can also use some cheering up. Enter Meghan Donahue, the Vice President of Academic Affairs. She's always in a hurry, and hence was a fitting subject for

Sonnet XCVI

She slips in office mornings like a dart,
Then falls out for that moot she oversees,
Her panel touching disabilities,
Or for a class. Below her brunette part,
A sea of freckles swash her snowish skin,
A star sky o'er her neck. Her natal pride,
The inkblot bloodorange amulet beside
Her silver cross, a pendant of her kin,
And more of peachish, punctuated white
Have sparked a compliment, and gave some cause
To write a moment, so to give her pause
When schedule's more her sense than sound or sight.
That will excuse her wefting eyes to slow,
And help my busy Meggo to let go.

Yea, I could not resist the concluding play on her nickname! Lately I've been such a shameless corporatist. As the poem says, she has a small birthmark just below her neck, and a peculiary attractive one too, immediately reminiscent of Georgiana's in the tale by Hawthorne. One time I told her, "Gee, that pretty birthmark is like a pendant you don't have to put on," and since the next day it was the talk of the town, I figured I could include it in a sonnet, but I didn't write the thing until just yesterday. Happily, VP Meggo enjoyed it very much.