It is roughly 27 metres east to west and 16 metres north to south, and within its eastern half, small limestone grave-markers are still visible, aligned north to south. The western half is bare of any markers, which is itself a quiet puzzle, an asymmetry with no obvious explanation. A pile of stones stands to the northwest of centre, and to the east, a large inscribed stone slab records that a Mr Fitzsimmons enclosed this small burial place.

This is a cillín, the Irish term for an informal burial ground used for unbaptised infants, and occasionally for others considered ineligible for consecrated ground under Catholic Church practice, including suicides and strangers. Cillíní are found throughout Ireland, often occupying liminal spots: field boundaries, ancient earthworks, the edges of townlands. The markers here are modest, as they typically are at such sites, limestone slabs rather than inscribed headstones. The Fitzsimmons dedication is unusual in this context. Whoever he was, he evidently took it upon himself to formally enclose and, in doing so, acknowledge a place that most communities kept quietly unmarked. That gesture of recognition, recorded in stone, sets this site apart from the many cillíní that survive only as grassy rises in farmland, known locally but otherwise unannounced.