Not dramatically, not recently, but over millennia, the blanket peat has crept up around the structure until only fragments of it remain visible above the waterlogged ground: three sidestones breaking the surface on the south side, a sliver of roofstone, and a pair of jamb-like stones that once framed an entrance.

The tomb belongs to the wedge tomb tradition, the most numerous class of megalithic monument in Ireland, built during the late Neolithic and into the Bronze Age, broadly between 2500 and 2000 BC. The defining feature of the type is a chamber that tapers in both width and height from one end to the other, typically oriented with the wider, taller end facing roughly west or south-west, towards the setting sun. This example follows that pattern closely: the chamber measures four metres in length and widens from around 1.6 metres at the north-east end to 2.6 metres at the south-west. It sits on a south-facing terrace in rough mountain pasture, the kind of elevated, marginal ground where wedge tombs are frequently found across Munster. The stones on the north side of the chamber are entirely buried under peat, and an inclined slab exposed at the north-east end may be a backstone that has since toppled outward from its original position.

What is quietly arresting about this tomb is how much the bog has done on its own terms. The structure is not ruined in the conventional sense; it has simply been absorbed, held in place by waterlogged ground that preserves organic material extraordinarily well even as it swallows the visible evidence. The entrance stones still sit in their transverse arrangement beneath the surviving roofstone fragment, as if the monument retains a kind of structural logic under the peat that the surface no longer makes legible.