The speaker describes fear as something that tracks them down and delivers gifts nobody asked for: a bear, or else the urge to put everything in order. Those two offerings sit oddly together. One is wild and physical, the other is a tidy, controlling impulse, and the poem hints that both are ways of reacting to being afraid.
The middle stanza turns inward. The speaker is bothered by their own mind, calling it backward, unseeing, and "nappish," a strange word that suggests something drowsy, or perhaps fuzzy and matted like fabric. It feels like a mind that has gone dull and sleepy just when it should be alert.
The ending is bleak but honest. The speaker admits they are nothing more than "that now-frozen weather," as if their whole self has become the cold, stuck state they are describing. The mood is uneasy and numb, a kind of frozen helplessness, though the odd wording keeps it a little strange rather than purely sad.