What is the colour of the wind?

All good reason would dictate that the wind has no colour.  For me this argument holds no sway.

I see it as blue on those cold, blustery days when the South Easter howls across Cape Town showing scant regard to whomever or whatever dares to cross its path. 

Grey it becomes when it slows to little more than a stifled breath on those summer days when it sends the mercury up to a sweltering heat that is almost unbearable.  When that haze stretches across the horizon, a visible grey pallour can be seen.  So, grey it is.

White when buffering little puffs of clouds along in their skyward journey. 

Pinkish-orange when frollicking with the infamous Cape smog.

The wind take on a tinge of green when competing for space in the sea with seaweed, or with algae in rivers. 

The wind has many colours, is chameleon-like, often changing at will.  This wonder of nature can be any colour the imagination conjures - at least, that's how I see it - a riotous cacaphony of colours with a joyous symphony to which it dances merrily in the light.