Still life in East Tennessee

I was travelling south on I-75
Through the mountains of East Tennessee
When the highway crossed over a bridge
And I could glance down into the valley
Below the concrete bridge,
And there, I saw the hills cuddled
Like a pile of calico cats,
A coat of many colors: orange, red and yellow,
The river tranquilly lapping the shore,
The water flowing like cane syrup
Through the curve of the hills below,
And I spied a small fishing boat
Anchored on the dark green river
And I envied the two fishermen
Spending their Sunday sabbath
Out on the water together
Throwing lines to the fish
Hidden beneath the surface,
The cool November breeze
Not yet chilling their endeavor,
The fallen leaves floating silently
On the still green water below.