Visiting the Badger Hole

Oh, the leaves are liquid yellow As we ride on through Custer Park, In search of that old Badger Hole: Home of the poet Badger Clark. Yes, we come to step back in time— It’s a historic rule of thumb— Where the city does not crowd you, And man can be scattered some. The old cabin now sits empty— A last poetic monument— Proving that words can still live on Where men have lived and come and went.