Rhubarb Poem by Ima Ryma

I live in a nice garden that
Is tended by some humans who
Live nearby in their habitat.
They seem curious what I do
While I am busiest at night.
They set out cams to video
My movements, but that is all right,
Long as I'm free to come and go.
When I want privacy from all,
With no bothering as a goal,
I roll into a spiny ball.
Some private time, then I unroll.

I hear, so guess my name does be
Rhubarb, the hedgehog - fine with me!