Landscrape Painter

Constable eyed some wagons and made such history,
maybe a few ducks, water ripples, which gave mystery;
I held my old brush staight in front of my squinting face,
it was recipe for vertigo but all fear went without a trace.

I liked many shadows - green and dark with some work,
you just  never knew what magic may lurk in the murk;
I then painted in a horse as though accused of a thief,
you can't stop me when I have the bit between my teeth.

But I have to sneak in a sunset at the rear of the animal,
now, that highlighted haunch suddenly becomes magical;
so don't foget the haystack with a suitable leaning yocal,
it all comes together, stunning and my decisions are final.

Now I can relax, speculate, brush acrylic from my arpon,
don't forget the chickens in a pecking order - then I'm done.