Regrettable Reentry

Hypochondriacal isolation

Thanks to a rampant, mysterious plague

Gradually yields to relaxation

As good signs appear, though many are vague

No global festival, marking the end

Has taken place, but our mood has improved

As a masked stranger becomes an old friend

Secretly, you might by regret be moved

The other humans often disappoint:

Obtuse, rude, obnoxious, greedy or vain

Their silly antics can one’s wits disjoint

And their vice and folly can cause one pain

Individually, they are as gods

But in groups, tribes or nations, many are clods