Each evening while I was in Mexico, I would drift down to the rocks beside the sea to smoke a cigar and watch the tide rise while the sun faded.
And each night, I was amazed at the crabs, clinging to the rocks, fending off attacks from above while sea spray rained all around them.
Strewn on the sandstone around me, out of the surf’s reach, were the shells of dozens of crabs who had been grabbed by birds. I was sitting on a dinner table. Or grave yard. Depends on your perspective.
And of course, I ended up with a haiku:
Ragged claws
Clinging to sandstone
defient claws thrust skyward
Crabs embrace the sea