A standing stone is exactly what it sounds like, a single upright slab of stone set into the ground, often prehistoric in origin and frequently mysterious as to its original purpose. This one, at least as recorded, was a well-shaped limestone pillar, modest in scale but tidy in form, measuring roughly a metre high, sixty centimetres wide, and a third of a metre thick. It was the kind of stone you might walk past without a second glance, which is perhaps part of why it no longer seems to be there at all.

The stone was documented in 1943 by O'Kelly, who recorded its dimensions with the careful exactness of a field surveyor working through a county's worth of monuments. The description, published in 1942 to 1943, gives us a precise physical portrait of something that was still visible and standing within living memory. Whether it was ancient or more recent in origin, the notes do not say, but its inclusion in a systematic archaeological survey suggests it was considered of some heritage significance. Limestone is the dominant building and geological material across much of Limerick and the wider Munster region, so its composition places it firmly in a local landscape that has been shaped, quarried, and altered for millennia.

According to a review of Digital Globe aerial photography compiled by Caimin O'Brien and uploaded in February 2020, no surface remains are visible at the site today. That is a notable detail, not just as a record of loss, but as a reminder of how quickly the physical evidence of a place can disappear between one generation's fieldwork and the next. If you were to visit Cloghaviller with the 1943 description in hand, you would be looking for something that may no longer break the surface of the ground, either removed, fallen, or buried. The townland name itself, Cloghaviller, contains the Irish element "cloch", meaning stone, which may or may not be a coincidence worth noting as you scan an unremarkable field for the ghost of a pillar.