I assure you, I did nothing to encourage him. I was simply kneeling trailside, counting petals on a flower — he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. Then I heard him approach, footstepping through memories of trees scattered across the forest floor. In his camouflage, I recognized fear and wonder, the wild and unpredictable nature of things, the magic of connection. There was no amorous announcement to my ear, but a sound, a something sound I could not believe. So as not to dash his hopes, I left quietly, wondering: do spiders really sing?