In just a few lines, "Makeover" watches spring, or something like it, take over a landscape. The first image is simple and a little magical: green calls to green, as if one patch of leaves were answering another, and soon every place is turning green. Nothing is forced. The change spreads the way a rumor or a song might, by one thing responding to the next.
The second stanza is more puzzling. The morning "did not intend" this transformation, yet it "made a shift for" it. That unfinished phrase leaves us hanging, as though the morning improvised, making do with what it had. The speaker doesn't claim to know the cause. They simply notice, and seem quietly delighted.
The mood is gentle and lightly playful. The title suggests a deliberate transformation, but the poem says the opposite: this beauty arrives by accident, almost by habit, and the poem is content to let it happen.