On Sycamore GapFor those who took shelter, saw its branches against the sky or heard the leaves dance; for all the picnics next to it and the proposals under it. For anyone who feels the strength of silent roots and the quiet promise of the turning year. For any of us who measure time in rings and wait for green leaves to grow again. For everyone who felt a loss when the gap was just a gap once more, these are words that grew in the space, the hope that shoots like