What makes it quietly compelling is not its size but its possible intent: the alignment corresponds, at least approximately, with a peak in the Galtee Mountains visible to the south-south-east. Whether that correspondence was purposeful or coincidental is unanswerable now, but it is the kind of detail that keeps archaeologists cautious and everyone else curious.

The stone measures 0.48 metres by 0.14 metres at its base and stands 1.65 metres high. Raised spots on its western face appear to be natural features of the rock, while notches cut into the south-east angle seem to be man-made, a small but telling distinction that suggests someone worked this stone with a specific outcome in mind. Roughly 32 metres to the north-east lies a separate enclosure, the two features sitting in loose proximity without any certain explanation of their relationship. The ground around the base has been worn into a shallow depression by generations of cattle, a very ordinary kind of erosion that has, over time, quietly undermined whatever context once surrounded the stone at ground level.