It has a scent of mildew
Infused with briny air
Tinged with heat-baked juniper
Near the window there

Swimsuits stiff with sandy salt
Hanging from the rail
Children’s plastic beach toys
Shovels, balls, and pails

A porch that’s sloped and battered
Warped with faded wood
Dead flies trapped in brittle screens
Fish hooks dulled by rust

Jelly jars for glasses
Outdoor shower stall
Misted morning swirls of fog
And weeks to go ‘til fall

Stepping through the doorway
Portal to a time of year
Welcome to our beach house
It’s always summer here.