Because She Could Not Wait For Spring

 Brush by dripping brush
the woman laved color
over the winter weary kitchen.
Cupboards rocked off their hinges
with the idea of orange
and chairs knocked knees
under a bee-bright table.
White-winged counters drifted
  on the blush of seashells
and floorboards clamored
for reinvention --
  until at effort’s end
the tongue-drag of green
from the bristled brush
  held the painter fast
with intimations of moss
and the knowledge that
she’d never leave the kitchen now.