It is not a tall, dramatic monolith. At roughly 0.8 metres high and less than a metre across, it would be easy to mistake for a natural outcrop if it were not for the packing-stones still visible around its base, wedged there to keep it upright. That detail, those carefully arranged stones holding the slab in position, is what separates it from the surrounding landscape and connects it quietly to whoever erected it.

The stone is oriented on an east-west axis and occupies a ridge with open ground falling away to the west. It does not stand entirely alone. A second standing stone lies to the north-east, and the proximity of the two raises the question of whether they were placed in deliberate relationship to one another, marking a route, a boundary, or something whose logic has long since dissolved. Standing stones are among the most common yet least understood monuments in the Irish landscape, typically assigned a broad prehistoric date but rarely pinned to a specific period or purpose. The conglomerate material here is irregular in shape, which suggests the stone was chosen and positioned rather than shaped or worked.