The speaker turns away from the idea of buried riches and asks us to notice what is already here: feet, the ground, a hand, growing nails, hair. Everything is close and physical. Even the memory of naming clouds and seeing animal shapes feels like a simple, shared pleasure rather than a prize. When the speaker says "there is no meter / to maintain these words / in order," the poem seems to admit that it has no tidy structure, only sky and rock.
The tone is calm, a little dry, and quietly defiant. The line about El Dorado suggests that the real treasure was whatever was never stolen, which makes value something you keep by not chasing it. "Keep the change" sounds almost casual, as if the speaker is walking away from a bargain. The ending, "I am standing firmly here," leaves a mood of steadiness and contentment, with a hint of stubborn pride in having enough.