Some more thoughts of summer— on a chilly and rainy day in the city, no less.

Bare legs in a summer skirt. The wind caught and flipped the hem, showing just enough leg for me to see her tan fade to pale the closer it got to the top of her thigh.

Who doesn’t love those summer skirts?

She ran across the road just as the lights changed against her and waved her thanks to the impatient car drivers. I bet they didn’t care, a flash of her smile and a flash of her legs, a devastating combination.

She always seemed to be running, rushing to get somewhere or see someone, today it was me.

I sat in the window of the cafe and grinned as she saw me, her pace increasing, heeled cowboy boots ringing on the pavement. How did this woman manage to wear what every other woman was wearing and still make her clothes look as if they were alive on her. What magic did her body exhale into the fabric to make it weave and dance around her?

I don’t know the answer, but that is definitely a special kind of magic.