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.