The Call of the Cold

I long for the frigid caress of the winter, Carelessly scouring my face with her wrath, Embracing me with an icicle splinter, Making me lose my mind in the math. Yes! I seek it more than you can e'er know! How could I turn down such a baptismal bath? Emerging, anew, in some glorious glow, A creature thawed out from deep-dreaded path. Release me, dear winter; freeze out my poor chest! Then, might I forget her, then might I have rest. Written for "Acrostic Poem about Fall or Winter" contest, sponsored by Janice Canerdy