Evie Groch spent her career in education before turning to writing. Now retired, she follows her love of travel and story across genres, publishing work shaped by the places and people she encounters.
Morning seeps through the colander of leaves. A sapling claims space. Logs take on ritual. Congregants gather by accident, their hands awkward, while lichen clings to the bark.
November 23, 2022
Memories / Nature / Summer / Transformation
Evie Groch hears August breathing through aspens, wings, and falling leaves. Her poem lingers on the delicate noise of a season ending its slow, golden exhale.
October 19, 2022
Evie Groch animates April and August as women tending the world—one soaked in rain, one barefoot in heat—each shaping the earth in her own mannered, unruly way.
Evie Groch imagines spring and autumn disguising themselves—sandals for sweaters, blossoms for crisp air—until the world stops reacting, leaving the seasons bewildered and strangely tender in their play.
July 27, 2022
Evie Groch slices into an orange and the scent unseals her voyage from war to safety. Childhood, hunger, and sweetness return in one trembling inhale.