Ode to the Sisters Min As Chekhov wrote of sisters three, I sing of Lily, Lala, thee. O lovely Nan, for orchid named, You are firstborn of equals famed, A mistress of computer geeks, Who maps the genome, software tweaks. I am your subject, at your beck. Who can resist when you talk tech? Fair sibling, Lala, coming next, Knows to interpret complex text. Teacher bespectacled and prim, I render her a poet's hymn. Last but not least, the little flower, Blown bloom to crown a nuptial bower, Comes into blossom and adorns Solomon's fancy amid thorns. Physician of the body fair, Administer your loving care By which my health swiftly reverts Because you touched me where it hurts. Each one a treasure in your right, Together daunting mortal sight, I praise you all on bended knee In worship of your trinity.