Like most American poets of the last 100 years, I tend to write in free verse, and not traditional rhymes and meters. But when a master writes in this way, magic can happen. The following poem , "The Woods," is by Hayden Carruth, from his Scrambled Eggs & Whiskey.

Finally the woods
are stripped down
and the great trees are gone,

leaving a tangle
of saplings and vines,
used up and ugly,
confused signs

of the simplicities
that once were here,
the high crown for tanagers,
glades for the deer.