The Lincoln Imp’s Birthday By Kirsten Irving

The Lincoln Imp’s Birthday By Kirsten Irving In November the cathedral angel says, “Fine. A day then,” and transforms me to clamber stiffly from my arch. Ahhh! Wagging my dragon-ears, as the last grains of limestone gloop to muscle, I slide to the flagstones, head for the bus. The seals haul ashore at Donna Nook, […]