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When a woman largely deemed a national treasure — an individual whom none other than Oprah declared a "living legend" — suggests you sound hopped up on caffeine, perhaps it's time to lay off the sauce.

"I drink a red-eye every morning," says renowned poet Nikki Giovanni Monday morning via telephone. "Do you do Starbucks? The red-eye is a coffee with a shot of espresso. It's a real pick-me-up."

The subject arises after I apologize for the lull while I scratch down notes.

"I was just thinking," she laughs, "‘he's had a red-eye.'"

Actually (and although on my third cup of Joe), it was merely the nerves talking. I've interviewed rock ‘n' rollers, Broadway thesps, and actors of the silver screen. But it's the poets that prove the most daunting. Maybe it's because they seem to be so much more aware than myself; most likely it's because they are.

Giovanni certainly has the credentials. Having published 26 books since her Civil Rights opus, "Black Feeling Black Talk" in 1968, the 66-year-old poet has received over 25 honorary degrees, 24 city keys, and has been the recipient and/or nominee for what seems to be every honor ever bestowed upon man, from Caldecott to the Grammy to the NAACP Image Awards. A former New York Times bestseller, she is equally adept at works aimed at adults, like the most recent "Bicycle: Love Poems," and books for children, like "Rosa" and "Lincoln and Douglas: An American Friendship."

From activist to Professor of English at Virginia Tech (Giovanni is an avowed Hokies fan) and beyond, she continues to make lyrical waves whenever she places pen to paper. On Sunday, she will visit The Weinberg Center for the Arts as part of the Frederick Reads initiative.

As of Monday, the author had been closed up in her house for three days due to a winter storm.

"I'm on top of the mountain," she says. "We had 18-inches of snow."

It's hard to imagine even that stopping her.

A&E: I'm sitting here looking over your timeline and it's astounding – the accolades and the journey, just the trajectory your life has taken over the course of three decades. Do you ever look back yourself and think, ‘Wow'?

Giovanni: Yeah, actually I do. I think, ‘Isn't that nice?' [laughing] Do you watch Saturday Night Live? You remember The Church Lady? I think, ‘Well, isn't that special?'

A&E: Are there any highlights, looking back? Anything that stands out in your mind?

Giovanni: Oh, sure. But writers, as you know, are about the next thing – what do I do now?

A&E: So what is the next thing? What do you have on your plate?

Giovanni: Well, I just had a banner year last year. What is it they say – ‘There's a time to reap and a time to sow?' I'm sowing right now.

A&E: What were the first thoughts that crossed your mind when you heard of the Haiti disaster?

Giovanni: It's so sad. I've visited Haiti several times – under bad regimes. I haven't been back since. But I was in Mexico when the Tsunami hit, and we could feel it. I [go to watch] the sea turtles – and we could see the water churning ... But I'm pleased that the world has responded the way it has – the way we always respond when something like this happens.

A&E: Have you put pen to paper in regards to the disaster?

GIovanni: Oh, no. And I doubt that I shall, actually. To answer a question you didn't ask – I joined with other artists for a CD and book for Katrina, orchestrated by Leo Sacks. Unless Leo were to call and say we're doing something, I don't think I know enough that I could add anything.

Giovanni, a Professor of English at Virginia Tech, delivered the closing remarks during the Convocation following the April 16, 2007 shooting at the university.

A&E: I recently watched the "We Are Virginia Tech" video. I didn't realize that the shooter had been a student of yours. How did you manage to walk up on stage and pull everyone together?

Giovanni: Well, you know – that was personal, not a natural disaster ... I knew the shooter, but I also knew some of the dead youngsters. So it was incredibly sad. I knew I needed to have something in hand. I'm pretty good on my feet, but not enough [that I would trust myself to do that.] So, I sat down and tried to gather my thoughts. Looking back, I wish I would have had more time. I didn't think that it was good enough. But it got the job done. I gave that to Virginia Tech, as you probably know. It's still – it's not an open sore, but it's still painful.

A&E: The reaction from the crowd – it truly seemed to bring everyone together.

Giovanni: Martin Luther King, Jr. used to say "open your mouths and God will put the words in." So I was like, "OK. I'm here." I didn't know we were international. I guess I should have. But I was worried about Virginia Tech. I was worried about our students. I love Virginia Tech. That's my home.

A&E: It seems to me that poetry can be cathartic, but also a call to action. Is that at all close to the mark? What purpose do you think poetry has in times like these?

Giovanni: I don't think poetry has to have a purpose. It's a bird. Well, birds are important – because they eat worms. But, I think poetry is just a way to look at the world. To keep turning that light. And that's what we keep doing. It doesn't have a job. I don't sit down and think, "I'm going to write this poem and people are going to go out and vote."

A&E: What were some of the earliest influences in your life that shaped your career? Reading your bio, your grandparents seemed like a core influence.

Giovanni: Well, grandmother was an activist. She was always thinking there was something to be done. I grew up in Knoxville, Tennessee during the age of segregation. The most financially influential man in town was Cas Walker. My grandmother would go to the school board meeting and demand an auditorium for the black students, and Cas Walker would be opposed to it. When she died, the biggest flowers on her casket, of course, were from the family – but the second biggest were from Cas, with a note that said, "I will miss you."

My grandfather was a Latin teacher – extremely intelligent. But he was also a storyteller. He taught me to love stories. My dad was a good storyteller, too. I'm an Appalachian, by birth. We were just talking about that recently – how Appalachians are born storytellers. And the most famous Appalachian storyteller, of course – Dolly Parton.

A&E: Do you get the same fulfillment writing for children that you do for adults?

Giovanni: Well, children are not just short adults. They are smart and funny and they question things. They have a really good sense of fairness. That's why I like to use big words with children, because they'll say, "What does that word mean?" And then you explain it do them. So I do. I really enjoy it.

A&E: What does performing live mean to you?

Giovanni: What I like about performing live is the spontaneity. The number one fear in the world is the fear of public speaking. I would have thought it would have been flying. But I enjoy interacting with people. Sometimes it's better than others. But that just means you have given something real. You couldn't have phoned it in.

A&E: I read in an interview that when your son was born that you said your priorities completely shifted.

Giovanni: Priorities shift.

A&E: Your son is 40 years old, now?

Giovanni: He is. [laughing] And balding. I asked him, "How did you get to be older than me?"

A&E: How have your priorities shifted since then?

Giovanni: I guess the major shift in our life is losing our parents. [For me, it was] the death of my mom. When your father dies, you have your mother. But when your mother dies, you usually have a sister or a brother. My sister had a brain tumor. My mother died in June. She died in August. Six weeks apart. So that was a major shift. I went from being the baby to being the elder. I'm an artist, not a director. I'm not the type of person who tells others "you have to do this." So, for me, in many respects – I've never been as free as I am now. And I like it. I don't have to answer to anyone. I don't have to explain anything to anyone. I don't have to listen to other peoples' problems. It leaves me a happy woman.

Frederick Reads Presents Nikki Giovanni

When: 2 p.m. Sunday

Where: Weinberg Center for the Arts, 20 W. Patrick St., Frederick

Tickets: Free

For information: 301-600-2828

www.weinbergcenter.org

www.fcpl.org

www.nikki-giovanni.com