Based on the tapestry of the same name by John Henry Dearle (1915) after William Morris and Philip Webb, The Forest captures the magic and majesty of the woods.

Straight Talk from Fox by Mary Oliver

Listen says fox it is music to run over the hills to lick dew from the leaves to nose along the edges of the ponds to smell the fat ducks in their bright feathers but far out, safe in their rafts of sleep. It is like music to visit the orchard, to find the vole sucking the sweet of the apple, or the rabbit with his fast-beating heart. Death itself is a music. Nobody has ever come close to writing it down, awake or in a dream. It cannot be told. It is flesh and bones changing shape and with good cause, mercy is a little child beside such an invention. It is music to wander the black back roads outside of town no one awake or wondering if anything miraculous is ever going to happen, totally dumb to the fact of every moment's miracle. Don't think I haven't peeked into windows. I see you in all your seasons making love, arguing, talking about God as if he were an idea instead of the grass, instead of the stars, the rabbit caught in one good teeth-whacking hit and brought home to the den. What I am, and I know it, is responsible, joyful, thankful. I would not give my life for a thousand of yours.