The speaker is talking to her muse, the source of her writing, and she's asking for a favor: just for one day, come kindly. The muse she knows is a gloomy visitor who digs through old newspaper clippings, her mother's letters, journals, and reminders of past failures. The speaker wants her to stay out of all that, and even out of her finances and online posts.
What she wants instead is a muse who comes skipping, snaps her fingers, wears something other than gray, and maybe even smiles. There's gentle teasing in lines like "I've never heard you laugh," which makes the tone feel more playful than angry.
The last stanza turns into a list of welcome gifts: fresh coffee, buttered bread, music, orange tulips. The final image of an empty basket, ready to be filled with "fresh green things," suggests openness. The mood is warm, humorous, and hopeful, like someone clearing space for a new beginning.