Ark

The xiessi pine stood in the middle of the garden. On its lower branches hung glass globes, like dew drops. Within each globe a tiny pine sapling grew. It was visual art and eco-sytem.
“You see,” the curator explained. “Every glass globe is a miniature greenhouse.”
The ceiling rattled by an ephemeral beast. The plastisteel dome held, as it always did, from the winds of this world. The curator shook her head.
“Let’s go, children,” she said. “Let’s talk about the tropical swallowtail moth.”
Above them, the glass globes swayed gently, waiting for their turn under an imaginary sun.