The ground around it is wet and rush-grown, boggy enough to discourage casual wandering, and the enclosure itself is now so thickly engulfed in brambles and hawthorn that close examination is difficult. What survives inside, where the terrain allows a glimpse, are scattered low upright slabs and prostrate stones, small and medium-sized for the most part, with a few larger ones, and a denser gathering of upright stones along the raised rim to the south-east and west.

The site appears on the 1838 Ordnance Survey six-inch map simply as a burial ground, but by the 1919 edition it is marked more specifically as a children's burial ground. Local knowledge identifies it as a cillin, the Irish term for an informal burial place used for unbaptised infants, a category of person who, under Catholic doctrine, could not be interred in consecrated ground. Cillini are found across Ireland, often in liminal spots: old ringforts, the edges of bogs, marginal land that was neither fully cultivated nor fully wild. This one occupies a sub-circular area of roughly eight by nine and a half metres, cut slightly into the hillside so that the interior slopes downward from south to north, dropping about 1.8 metres across that short distance. A raised bank or rim, one and a half to two metres wide, defines the uphill arc, while on the downhill side the boundary merges into the natural scarp of the hillock itself, the external face standing around 1.2 metres high.

The practice of burying unbaptised children in such places continued in parts of rural Ireland well into the twentieth century, driven by a combination of Church regulation and the social pressure that surrounded it. Many cillini were known only within their own townlands, passed down through local memory rather than any formal record, which is part of why the shift in cartographic labelling between 1838 and 1919 is quietly telling. Someone, at some point between those two surveys, felt the need to be more precise about what this particular patch of ground was for.