How the path changes

 The brick path on the way to the park, absorbs every part of the year.
The kapok tree flowers accumulate over the ground covering the brick path.
The late summer rains, sun and pedestrian foot steps that squash the flowers.
Those pink and white flowers turn dark orange and brown and get squashed down.

In the humidity they expand, in the dry it all contracts and fragments make their way into dust.
The breeze and wind picking pieces of it up and send it to the corners and gutters.
Filling up the drains and forming a layer of decomposed material underneath.
Weeks later it is all gone, not even a stain remains, as of the flowers never happened.

Not their bloom, not their incredible display and not their imminent fall.
Not their turning, not their decay, not their mould, not their organic remains.
The brick pavers become clean again and the sunbleach and rain maintaining it all.
Ants nests encroach mounds of yellow brown sand emerge.

Autumn tries to hold onto the sun but the cool fronts break through.
The nest is empty, the wind blows them away, and the brick path is once again flat.
It never remains the same, it's litter, it's tone, it's stains.
Like the face of a changing person, how the path can change just like the wanderer.