The time between times.

When it's neither light or dark, night or day. A magical moment when night and day are equal and the veils between the World's are thin. Anything is possible as Faeries and Sprites, Spirits and Ghosts enjoy their moment of strength and mortals should beware of the beautiful spells they weave.
Spells that sink into your dawning wakefulness and lure you from your bed to stand in the garden and gaze at the faery rings or to listen to the secret rustlings beneath the hedge. Do not dare to step barefoot onto the lawn and wash your face in the cold dew, dreaming of everlasting beauty. Faery glamour is just a game and they love to trick us.
And at the day's close, when the night lures the sun into it's shadows, beware of following that sun into the twilight as the Fey beings once again slip into our World. They hold sway at both ends of the day, the Time between times when the brightest thing abroad is our glowing Soul and it draws them like a lantern, like a beacon in the gloaming.
For poets and artists, inspiration arrives with the brush of a Faery's wing. Writer's hear the whisperings of the spirits and common mortals do well to stay in bed, safe beneath the duvet, safe from temptation. For Faery gifts are never given freely and come at a price we may not wish to pay.