Nothing marks it out to the passing eye, no headstones, no cross, no plaque. Local tradition holds that this was once a burial ground, yet the grass-covered interior gives nothing away. The absence of visible graves is itself part of what makes such places quietly unsettling; the ground keeps its secrets entirely.

The enclosure is roughly square in plan, about 26 metres on each side, with gently rounded corners. It is defined by a low earthen bank, somewhere around five metres wide and less than a metre high, which has worn down considerably over time. The best-preserved section survives at the north-east. At the southern edge, the old bank has been absorbed into a later field fence, the kind of quiet overwriting that happened all across rural Ireland as agricultural boundaries shifted across centuries and older features became convenient ready-made walls. Two other elements complete the picture of a place once in use and long since left behind: a disused trackway skirts the western side of the enclosure, and at its south-western end the track leads to a ruined vernacular stone cottage, the kind of small, plain dwelling that would once have been typical of this part of Connacht. Lough Alick lies 225 metres to the west, its outflow stream passing 100 metres to the north.

The combination of the earthwork's form and its local reputation as a burial ground suggests it may be a cillín, a term used in Ireland for informal burial grounds, often set apart from consecrated churchyards, where unbaptised infants or others excluded from formal Christian burial were interred. Such sites were rarely documented and are frequently identified only through oral tradition, which is exactly the case here. Whether the earthen enclosure predates that use entirely, or was chosen precisely because it already appeared ancient and set apart, is not something the ground surface can now tell us.