Friends and Not Friends

As we reach our bivvy, just rejoice
    that all the things about us are
simplex and integer. Pair after pair,
those crisp-winged wild duck take the air
in neat domestic bliss; and the rate of growth
    of the meadow-grass? Zero in winter.

So, creep out of the wind, squat here, pour
    two glasses, one for each. Then cards:
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