Early and all in a minute There is a town nearby where death is never placid anymore. Caught between cliffs, dark comes early and all in a minute. The people take their water from a spring so clear the early settlers used its ice for windows. Right now, a man is falling deep into a pool he just finished building. A woman is running to catch the soup on the stove before it boils over. She leaves her first-born in the bathtub. Someone is drinking moonshine that blinds before killing. The old doctor, with his black bag, cold steel tools, and little bottles did what he could. But it seems his rate of speed, the icy bridge, and the swollen river were all just too much. The little bottles float out and drift away in the dark as the headlights fail. A new doctor never arrived.