What makes it quietly odd is that it began as a piece of karst pavement, the kind of naturally fissured limestone surface that characterises much of this part of Connacht, and was then deliberately selected, removed, and set upright by human hands at some point in prehistory. It measures 1.5 metres in length and reaches a maximum height of 1.45 metres at its broader northern end, tapering and dropping to just 0.5 metres at its southern end, giving it an L-shaped profile rather than the clean rectangular outline you might expect.

The stone carries the marks of several different processes, natural and agricultural. Solution holes, which are small hollows formed by the slow dissolution of limestone by rainwater, are visible across its surface, a reminder that the material was already ancient and weathered long before anyone thought to raise it. Lichen now covers every face. The north-northeast side has been worn smooth, not by any ritual or deliberate shaping, but by generations of cattle using the stone as a rubbing post. A small boulder at the base on its eastern side may have been placed there as a packing stone to help keep the slab upright, while loose stones on the western side are thought to be the accumulated debris of field clearance over the centuries. Together, these details sketch a long afterlife: a prehistoric monument that has quietly become part of the working landscape around it.