Wearing all the Hats

Being their handyman
they asked me to pull down the cheap tin woodshed
damaged by a windblown branch-
But being sixty years old
I balked,    I should have refused
yanking, sledging, cussing,
sumo-wrestling with bent green panels in oversized gloves-
But it was the first week in january
a sharp chill in the air
loose cloud fragments floated above the close pines
a job clearly made for college kids-
more than once I almost walked away
but when the trouble ended
and the shed was upended
voila!  a truck full of metal
my foot on the pedal