Drunk Supervisor

They say that wise ones are like branches of Cerces, basking in the radiance of rationality.
Yet my mentor, Sarahetha, preferred to soak herself in wine barrels.
From lectures to research, and even during experiments, she never went without her drink.
I once asked her which she valued more: Truth or honey brew.
After a long silence, she replied with a drinking hiccup.
She was a genuine genius,
A single potion of hers could vanquish wheat diseases,
And a few papers could boost olive production.
But what truly filled her heart with pride was perfecting the taste of cider.
Now, thirty years after graduation, I'm here in the academy to attend her funeral.
Well, I guess it's more like a wine-tasting event than a somber occasion.
Her final wish was to toast and revel with Thanatos.