“Oh, gardener wise, with Felco in hand,
Let autumn’s whispers guide your plan.
Each cut a verse, each snip a song,
Nature’s beauty, all along.”

As autumn’s breath begins to chill the air,
And golden leaves descend in whispered prayer,
The gardener stands with thoughtful eye,
To choose the tool that fits the sky.

For every branch, a careful hand must guide,
To shape the form, to honor, to abide.
The Felco shears, in steadfast rows they stand,
Each one a promise, firm in hand.

The **Felco F2**—a classic, tried and true,
For hands that know the weight of dew.
Its curved and sharp, a dancer’s grace,
To trim with ease, to find the place.

The **Felco F3**—for those who seek,
A lighter touch, yet strength to speak.
Its ergonomic form, so light, so bright,
A whisper to the branches’ height.

The **F4**, for those with hands so wide,
A grip so sure, a steady ride.
For thickest stems, it cuts with might,
A guardian of the garden’s light.

Oh, choose with care, for seasons turn,
And every cut must be discerned.
For in the shears, the gardener’s art,
Is held within the cutting heart.

So let the autumn winds decide,
Which Felco