What is the colour of noise?

Is it the rushing,
bubbling blue of the stream
as it tumbles over pebbles and boulders?

Is it the dismal grey chug-chug of lorry’s exhaust?
Or the sizzling smoke of an overheated engine?

Is it the metallic silver of a computer processor?
The hum of a CD preparing to play,
or the click click of fingernails on the keyboard?

Is it the golden yellow of jazz music
played on the saxophone,
a deep and hearty rhythmic melody?

Is it the fresh,
pure green of the rolling hills,
where the bleating of the ewe carries on the breeze?

Is it the crimson red of rage?
The anger of injustice?
The sores caused by pain?
The cry of despair?

Is it the burning orange
of an open fire sending up crackling sparks
and radiating tangible warmth?

Is it the chocolate brown muffin-mixture in the blender?
The beater pummelling eggs and flour together?

Is it the pure pink delight
of a baby’s gurgle
as he splashes and giggles in the bath?

Is it the velvety black of nightfall
as birds sing out their roosting calls in the trees
and the moon rises on the horizon?

Is it the glorious glow of pure white,
as my pen dashes across the crisp,
clean page, scratching blue lines of text,
unleashing a new idea?