The Crab Poem by Bullion Grey

A picking here, a pulling there
a crab grabs dinner anywhere.
Walking sideways, up and down,
searching for morsels on coastal ground.

Swimmers and surfers, he just does not care,
they are not effects on his affair.
A child interupts for a moment to try,
to capture a crab for the inquizitive eye.
The crab is crafty, he slips by.

Does anyone know the crab and his days?
Is it possible a crab questions his days?
One thing I do know at this time;
this crab is not aware he is the subject of my rhyme!