The title, "Therapy," tells us how to read this: the poem feels like a small session in which the speaker tries to reach an earlier version of themselves. It opens with the wind, which has no mouth yet has to scream. That sounds like a feeling that needs a voice and hasn't found one. Then the speaker turns to their own tongue, which tastes a half-frozen stream, a cold, in-between, not-quite-still sensation.
The middle moment is the warmest. The speaker proposes a trade to their childhood self: "You draw me & I'll draw you." It's simple and playful, like a game between two kids, but it also suggests the adult and the child need to see each other.
In the last lines, the two selves lean together like ladders against the clouds. The speaker feels carefully with one foot for the next rung down, which suggests a slow, cautious descent into the past. The mood is quiet, tender and a little wary, with pain held back but gentle hope in the reaching.