That strange time at dusk

I think the hours when night changes to day, and day changes to night are very strange when you are outside… the sky seems to take on an odd quality, even if its odd in a nice way, a sunny day disappearing into a pleasant evening.

Hamlet talks about ‘witching times’ meaning the deepest darkest part of the night,

Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world:

and the Scottish poet Robert Blair also does:

Dead men have come again, and walk’d about;
And the great bell has toll’d, unrung, untouch’d!
Such tales their cheer, at wake or gossiping,
When it draws near the witching-time of night.

However, to me, the in-between times of dawn and dusk are the witching times when odd things might happen. It doesn’t have to be dark for it to seem strange and as if there is a sort of expectancy in the air…