... on a misty morning.
This is not a black&white image, the sky was just so grey.

We Finns have always been fascinated with the crow, and there has been a multitude of poems written about the bird as well.
One of the finest is the poem "Syksy" ("Autumn" in English), written by Lauri Pohjanpää in 1924, where the crows are heard musing (translated to English semi-literally):

Two old, old crows
silently swaying on the fence.

The rushes' chest is dirty brown
Sky's grey and weeping. Autumn’s down.

"The stark has left", one speaks out
to his brother, like by himself.

A long silence. "So he did"
Replies the other, eventually.

The elders fall silent again
As the rain dances on the lake.

One grooms the back of his wing
The other sometimes squints his eyes.

Crouching their heads down
It's raining. Quiet. Getting dark.

Across the field's dark plow
the kiln's scent can be felt.

Two wet, old crows
dozing on the fence, deep in thought.

"I probably should…" wakes one up,
slowly preparing to take flight.

"Was good meeting you.
Come and chat with me again"