V2 Issue 2‎ > ‎

Prana Mandoe

the quiet of the land



the quiet of the land

stretches over hills


trees rustle as the breeze

travels on sunshine


my sitting breath, the cabin,

the leaves are of one peace


mynahs squawk and far-off cars

whoosh by on the highway


at night the distant barking dogs

are a comfort like pelting rain


the drumroll on a tin roof

deafens watchers of television


and when the surf breaks on cliffs

the echoes boom across meadows


the boulders rattle, chatter

roll, knock, recede, talk


so too wind gusts,

splitting the lychee orchard


it roars, it whistles, it fills

the ears of a child


holding her arms out ecstatic

yet this too is quiet


in the vast life of

our spinning planet


as is her greatest sound,

the maelstrom of river


it reverberates in forest

shakes the bedrock


two days a torrent,

two weeks a stream


gurgling into

a moist pocket


this quiet



to the farthest reaches

of our ability







one step,

then the next


up a switchback

into sky


at the mountain’s knees

goose calls ricochet


off crater walls

within the greater quiet


this music

sharpens the mind


notice, baby birds repeat

the same high cry


like a beeping

car door



internal quiet


the flow of breath

aligning bones


the flow of work

absorbing mind


the feel of soil

the smile of cilantro


how a coconut frond

rides imperceptible puffs


of air,

ah, air



her patterns


breathe out

breath in





small squirts


the dark floor leads

to one big door


the quiet of the long hall

makes us tiptoe


we peek in

at the altar


a buddha, flowers



grown-ups sit

guavas drop






Prana Joy Mandoe is a mother, poet, 8th grade teacher, and gardener in the small town of Hilo, Hawai'i. Her work has appeared in Mothering Magazine and Bamboo Ridge Journal of Hawai'i Literature and Arts.