An ancient bee on small white flowers. Rubbing its wings to sing a song, an Esperantist tune it learned yesterday standing on the sill of a human home, where a family banged the piano (the bee could feel the notes through the air and wood) and shouted the happy words (the bee could smell their breaths).     Ella Spiralum and Zoltan Abbassid returned from New Mexico the next spring. Strangely, the Mesopotamian bees had multiplied over the winter.